228:001,01['  ]| On$4$ the morrow, in$4$ the evening, Lord Warburton
228:001,02['  ]| went again to$9$ see his friends at their hotel, and at
228:001,03['  ]| this establishment he learned that$3$ they had gone to$4$ 
228:001,04['  ]| the opera.  He drove to$4$ the opera with the idea of
228:001,05['  ]| paying them a visit in$4$ their box after the easy Italian
228:001,06['  ]| fashion; and when he had obtained his admittance
228:001,07['  ]| ~~ it was one of the secondary theatres ~~ looked
228:001,08['  ]| about the large, bare, ill-lighted house.  An act had
228:001,09['  ]| just terminated and he was at liberty to$9$ pursue his
228:001,10['  ]| quest.  After scanning two or three tiers of boxes he
228:001,11['  ]| perceived in$4$ one of the largest of these receptacles
228:001,12['  ]| a lady whom he easily recognised.  Miss*Archer was
228:001,13['  ]| seated facing the stage and partly screened by$4$ the 
228:001,14['  ]| curtain of the box; and beside her, leaning back in$4$ 
228:001,15['  ]| his chair, was Mr%*Gilbert*Osmond.  They appeared
228:001,16['  ]| to$9$ have the place to$4$ themselves, and Warburton supposed
228:001,17['  ]| their companions had taken advantage of the 
228:001,18['  ]| recess to$9$ enjoy the relative coolness of the lobby.
228:001,19['  ]| He stood a while with his eyes on$4$ the interesting
228:001,20['  ]| pair; he asked himself 
228:001,20@d   | if he should go up$5$ and interrupt
228:001,21@d   | the harmony.  
228:001,21['  ]| At last he judged that$3$ Isabel
228:001,22['  ]| had seen him, and this accident determined him.
228:001,23@d   | There should be no$2$ marked holding off.  
228:001,23['  ]| He took
228:001,24['  ]| his way to$4$ the upper regions and on$4$ the staircase met
228:001,25['  ]| Ralph*Touchett slowly descending, his hat at the 
228:002,01['  ]| inclination of ennui and his hands where they usually
228:002,02['  ]| were.
228:002,03[B  ]| "I saw you below a moment since and was going
228:002,04[B  ]| down to$4$ you.  I feel lonely and want company," 
228:002,04['  ]| was
228:002,05['  ]| Ralph's greeting.
228:002,06[D  ]| "You have some that$6#1$ is very good which$6#1$ you have yet
228:002,07[D  ]| deserted."
228:002,08[B  ]| "Do you mean my cousin?  Oh, she has a visitor
228:002,09[B  ]| and does not want me.  Then Miss*Stackpole and
228:002,10[B  ]| Bantling have gone out to$4$ a cafe= to$9$ eat an ice ~~ Miss*Stackpole
228:002,11[B  ]| delights in$4$ an ice.  I did not think \they\
228:002,12[B  ]| wanted me either.  The opera is very bad; the 
228:002,13[B  ]| women look like$4$ laundresses and sing like$4$ peacocks.
228:002,14[B  ]| I feel very low."
228:002,15[D  ]| "You had better go home," 
228:002,15['  ]| Lord*Warburton said
228:002,16['  ]| without affectation.
228:002,17[B  ]| "And leave my young lady in$4$ this sad place?  Ah
228:002,18[B  ]| no$7$, I must watch over her."
228:002,19[D  ]| "She seems to$9$ have plenty of friends."
228:002,20[B  ]| "Yes, that$6#2$ is why I must watch," 
228:002,20['  ]| said Ralph with 
228:002,21['  ]| the same large mock-melancholy.
228:002,22[D  ]| "If she does not want you it is probable she does not
228:002,23[D  ]| want me."
228:002,24[B  ]| "No$7$, you are different.  Go to$4$ the box and stay
228:002,25[B  ]| there while I walk about."
228:002,26['  ]| Lord*Warburton went to$4$ the box, where Isabel's
228:002,27['  ]| welcome was as to$4$ a friend so$5#1$ honourably old that$3$
228:002,28['  ]| he vaguely asked himself 
228:002,28@d   | what queer temporal province
228:002,29@d   | she was annexing.  
228:002,29['  ]| He exchanged greetings 
228:002,30['  ]| with Mr%*Osmond, to$4$ whom he had been introduced
228:002,31['  ]| the day before and who$6#1$, after he came in$5$, sat blandly
228:002,32['  ]| apart and silent, as if repudiating competence in$4$ the 
228:003,01['  ]| subjects of allusion now probable.  It struck her second
228:003,02['  ]| visitor that$3$ 
228:003,02@d   | Miss*Archer had, in$4$ operatic conditions,
228:003,03@d   | a radiance, even a slight exaltation; 
228:003,03['  ]| as she 
228:003,04['  ]| was, however, at all times a keenly-glancing, quickly-moving,
228:003,05['  ]| completely animated young woman, he may
228:003,06['  ]| have been mistaken on$4$ this point.  Her talk with him
228:003,07['  ]| moreover pointed to$4$ presence of mind; it expressed
228:003,08['  ]| a kindness so$5#1$ ingenious and deliberate as to$9$ indicate
228:003,09['  ]| that$3$ she was in$4$ undisturbed possession of her faculties.
228:003,10['  ]| Poor Lord*Warburton had moments of bewilderment.  
228:003,11@d   | She had discouraged him, formally, as
228:003,12@d   | much as a woman could; what business had she then
228:003,13@d   | with such arts and such felicities, above all with such 
228:003,14@d   | tones of reparation ~~ preparation?  Her voice had 
228:003,15@d   | tricks of sweetness, but why play them on$4$ \him\?  The
228:003,16@d   | others came back; the bare, familiar, trivial opera
228:003,17@d   | began again.  The box was large, and there was room
228:003,18@d   | for$4$ him to$9$ remain if he would sit a little behind and
228:003,19@d   | in$4$ the dark.  
228:003,19['  ]| He did so$5#2$ for$4$ half an hour, while
228:003,20['  ]| Mr*%Osmond remained in$4$ front, leaning forward, his
228:003,21['  ]| elbows on$4$ his knees, just behind Isabel.  Lord*Warburton
228:003,22['  ]| heard nothing, and from his gloomy corner
228:003,23['  ]| saw nothing but the clear profile of this young lady
228:003,24['  ]| defined against the dim illumination of the house.
228:003,25['  ]| When there was another interval no*one moved.  Mr%*Osmond
228:003,26['  ]| talked to$4$ Isabel, and Lord*Warburton kept
228:003,27['  ]| his corner.  He did so$5#2$ but for$4$ a short time, however;
228:003,28['  ]| after which$6#1$ he got up$5$ and bade good-night to$4$ the 
228:003,29['  ]| ladies.  Isabel said nothing to$9$ detain him, but it
228:003,30['  ]| did not prevent his being puzzled again.  
228:003,30@d   | Why should
228:003,31@d   | she mark so$5#2$ one of his values ~~ quite the wrong one
228:003,32@d   | ~~ when she would have nothing to$9$ do with another,
228:004,01@d   | which$6#1$ was quite the right?  
228:004,01['  ]| He was angry with himself 
228:004,02['  ]| for$4$ being puzzled, and then angry for$4$ being angry.
228:004,03['  ]| Verdi's music did little to$9$ comfort him, and he
228:004,04['  ]| left the theatre and walked homeward, without knowing 
228:004,05['  ]| his way, through the tortuous, tragic streets of
228:004,06['  ]| Rome, where heavier sorrows than his had been carried
228:004,07['  ]| under the stars.
228:004,08[C  ]| "What is the character of that$6#2$ gentleman?" 
228:004,08['  ]| Osmond
228:004,09['  ]| asked of Isabel after he had retired.
228:004,10[A  ]| "Irreproachable ~~ do not you see it?"
228:004,11[I  ]| "He owns about half England; that$6#2$ is his character,"
228:004,12['  ]| Henrietta remarked.  
228:004,12[I  ]| "That$6#2$ is what they call a
228:004,13[I  ]| free country!"
228:004,14[C  ]| "Ah, he is a great proprietor? Happy man!" 
228:004,14['  ]| said
228:004,15['  ]| Gilbert*Osmond.
228:004,16[I  ]| "Do you call that$6#2$ happiness ~~ the ownership of
228:004,17[I  ]| wretched human beings?" 
228:004,17['  ]| cried Miss*Stackpole.
228:004,18[I  ]| "He owns his tenants and has thousands of them.
228:004,19[I  ]| It is pleasant to$9$ own something, but inanimate objects 
228:004,20[I  ]| are enough for$4$ me.  I do not insist on$4$ flesh and
228:004,21[I  ]| blood and minds and consciences."
228:004,22[W  ]| "It seems to$4$ me you own a human being or two,"
228:004,23['  ]| Mr%*Bantling suggested jocosely.  
228:004,23[W  ]| "I wonder
228:004,24[W  ]| if Warburton orders his tenants about as you do 
228:004,25[W  ]| me."
228:004,26[A  ]| "Lord*Warburton is a great radical," 
228:004,26['  ]| Isabel said.
228:004,27[A  ]| "He has very advanced opinions."
228:004,28[I  ]| "He has very advanced stone walls.  His park is
228:004,29[I  ]| enclosed by$4$ a gigantic iron fence, some thirty miles
228:004,30[I  ]| round," 
228:004,30['  ]| Henrietta announced for$4$ the information of
228:004,31['  ]| Mr%*Osmond.  
228:004,31[I  ]| "I should like$1$ him to$9$ converse with
228:004,32[I  ]| a few of our Boston radicals."
228:005,01[W  ]| "Do not they approve of iron fences?" 
228:005,01['  ]| asked Mr*Bantling.
228:005,02['  ]| 
228:005,03[I  ]| "Only to$9$ shut up$5$ wicked conservatives.  I always
228:005,04[I  ]| feel as if I were talking to$4$ \you\ over something with 
228:005,05[I  ]| a neat top-finish of broken glass."
228:005,06[C  ]| "Do you know him well, this unreformed reformer?" 
228:005,07['  ]| Osmond went on$5$, questioning Isabel.
228:005,08[A  ]| "Well enough for$4$ all the use I have for$4$ him."
228:005,09[C  ]| "And how much of a use is that$6#2$?"
228:005,10[A  ]| "Well, I like$1$ to$9$ like$1$ him."
228:005,11[C  ]| """Liking to$9$ like$1$"" ~~ why, it makes a passion!"
228:005,12['  ]| said Osmond.
228:005,13[A  ]| "No$7$" 
228:005,13['  ]| ~~ she considered ~~ 
228:005,13[A  ]| "keep that$6#2$ for$4$ liking
228:005,14[A  ]| to$9$ \dislike\."
228:005,15[C  ]| "Do you wish to$9$ provoke me then," 
228:005,15['  ]| Osmond
228:005,16['  ]| laughed, 
228:005,16[C  ]| "to$4$ a passion for$4$ \him\?"
228:005,17['  ]| She said nothing for$4$ a moment, but then met the 
228:005,18['  ]| light question with a disproportionate gravity.  
228:005,18[A  ]| "No$7$,
228:005,19[A  ]| Mr%*Osmond; I do not think I should ever dare to$9$ 
228:005,20[A  ]| provoke you.  Lord*Warburton, at any rate," 
228:005,20['  ]| she
228:005,21['  ]| more easily added, 
228:005,21[A  ]| "is a very nice man."
228:005,22[C  ]| "Of great ability?" 
228:005,22['  ]| her friend enquired.
228:005,23[A  ]| "Of excellent ability, and as good as he looks."
228:005,24[C  ]| "As good as he is good-looking do you mean?
228:005,25[C  ]| He is very good-looking.  How detestably fortunate!
228:005,26[C  ]| ~~ to$9$ be a great English magnate, to$9$ be clever and
228:005,27[C  ]| handsome into the bargain, and, by$4$ way of finishing
228:005,28[C  ]| off, to$9$ enjoy your high favour! That$6#2$ is a man I could
228:005,29[C  ]| envy."
228:005,30['  ]| Isabel considered him with interest.  
228:005,30[A  ]| "You seem
228:005,31[A  ]| to$4$ me to$9$ be always envying some*one.  Yesterday it
228:005,32[A  ]| was the Pope; to-day it is poor Lord*Warburton."
228:006,01[C  ]| "My envy is not dangerous; it would not hurt a 
228:006,02[C  ]| mouse.  I do not want to$9$ destroy the people ~~ I only 
228:006,03[C  ]| want to$9$ \be\ them.  You see it would destroy only 
228:006,04[C  ]| myself."
228:006,05[A  ]| "You would like$1$ to$9$ be the Pope?" 
228:006,05['  ]| said Isabel.
228:006,06[C  ]| "I should love it ~~ but I should have gone in$5$ for$4$
228:006,07[C  ]| it earlier.  But why" 
228:006,07['  ]| ~~ Osmond reverted ~~ 
228:006,07[C  ]| "do you
228:006,08[C  ]| speak of your friend as poor?"
228:006,09[B  ]| "Women ~~ when they are very, very good ~~
228:006,10[B  ]| sometimes pity men after they have hurt them; that$6#2$ is
228:006,11[B  ]| their great way of showing kindness," 
228:006,11['  ]| said Ralph,
228:006,12['  ]| joining in$4$ the conversation for$4$ the first time and with 
228:006,13['  ]| a cynicism so$5#1$ transparently ingenious as to$9$ be virtually 
228:006,14['  ]| innocent.
228:006,15[A  ]| "Pray, have I hurt Lord*Warburton?" 
228:006,15['  ]| Isabel
228:006,16['  ]| asked, raising her eyebrows as if the idea were perfectly 
228:006,17['  ]| fresh.
228:006,18[I  ]| "It serves him right if you have," 
228:006,18['  ]| said Henrietta
228:006,19['  ]| while the curtain rose for$4$ the ballet.
228:006,20['  ]| Isabel saw no$2$ more of her attributive victim for$4$ the 
228:006,21['  ]| next twenty-four hours, but on$4$ the second day after
228:006,22['  ]| the visit to$4$ the opera she encountered him in$4$ the gallery
228:006,23['  ]| of the Capitol, where he stood before the lion of 
228:006,24['  ]| the collection, the statue of the Dying*Gladiator.  She
228:006,25['  ]| had come in$5$ with her companions, among whom, on$4$ 
228:006,26['  ]| this occasion again, Gilbert*Osmond had his place,
228:006,27['  ]| and the party, having ascended the staircase, entered
228:006,28['  ]| the first and finest of the rooms.  Lord*Warburton
228:006,29['  ]| addressed her alertly enough, but said in$4$ a 
228:006,30['  ]| moment that$3$ he was leaving the gallery.  
228:006,30[D  ]| "And I am
228:006,31[D  ]| leaving Rome," 
228:006,31['  ]| he added.  
228:006,31[D  ]| "I must bid you goodbye."
228:006,32['  ]| Isabel, inconsequently enough, was now sorry
228:007,01['  ]| to$9$ hear it.  This was perhaps because she had ceased
228:007,02['  ]| to$9$ be afraid of his renewing his suit; she was thinking
228:007,03['  ]| of something else.  She was on$4$ the point of naming 
228:007,04['  ]| her regret, but she checked herself and simply wished
228:007,05['  ]| him a happy journey; which$6#1$ made him look at her
228:007,06['  ]| rather unlightedly.  
228:007,06[D  ]| "I am afraid you will$1$ think me
228:007,07[D  ]| very ""volatile"".  I told you the other day I wanted
228:007,08[D  ]| so$5#1$ much to$9$ stop."
228:007,09[A  ]| "Oh no$7$; you could easily change your mind."
228:007,10[D  ]| "That$6#2$ is what I have done."
228:007,11[A  ]| "\Bon voyage\ then."
228:007,12[D  ]| "You are in$4$ a great hurry to$9$ get rid of me," 
228:007,12['  ]| said
228:007,13['  ]| his lordship quite dismally.
228:007,14[A  ]| "Not in$4$ the least.  But I hate partings."
228:007,15[D  ]| "You do not care what I do," 
228:007,15['  ]| he went on$5$ pitifully.
228:007,16['  ]| Isabel looked at him a moment. 
228:007,16[A  ]| "Ah," 
228:007,16['  ]| she said,
228:007,17[A  ]| "you are not keeping your promise!"
228:007,18['  ]| He coloured like$4$ a boy of fifteen.  
228:007,18[D  ]| "If I am not, then
228:007,19[D  ]| it is because I can not; and that$6#2$ is why I am going."
228:007,20[A  ]| "Good-bye then."
228:007,21[D  ]| "Good-bye."  
228:007,21['  ]| He lingered still, however.  
228:007,21[D  ]| "When
228:007,22[D  ]| shall I see you again?:
228:007,23['  ]| Isabel hesitated, but soon, as if she had had a happy
228:007,24['  ]| inspiration:  
228:007,24[A  ]| "Some day after you are married."
228:007,25[D  ]| "That$6#2$ will$1$ never be.  It will$1$ be after you are."
228:007,26[A  ]| "That$6#2$ will$1$ do as well," 
228:007,26['  ]| she smiled.
228:007,27[D  ]| "Yes, quite as well.  Good-bye."
228:007,28['  ]| They shook hands, and he left her alone in$4$ the 
228:007,29['  ]| glorious room, among the shining antique marbles.
228:007,30['  ]| She sat down in$4$ the centre of the circle of these presences,
228:007,31['  ]| regarding them vaguely, resting her eyes on$4$
228:007,32['  ]| their beautiful blank faces; listening, as it were, to$4$ 
228:008,01['  ]| their eternal silence.  It is impossible, in$4$ Rome at 
228:008,02['  ]| least, to$9$ look long at a great company of Greek sculptures
228:008,03['  ]| without feeling the effect of their noble quietude;
228:008,04['  ]| which$6#1$, as with a high door closed for$4$ the ceremony,
228:008,05['  ]| slowly drops on$4$ the spirit the large white mantle of 
228:008,06['  ]| peace.  I say in$4$ Rome especially, because the Roman
228:008,07['  ]| air is an exquisite medium for$4$ such impressions.  The
228:008,08['  ]| golden sunshine mingles with them, the deep stillness
228:008,09['  ]| of the past, so$5#1$ vivid yet, though it is nothing but a 
228:008,10['  ]| void full of names, seems to$9$ throw a solemn spell upon$4$ 
228:008,11['  ]| them.  The blinds were partly closed in$4$ the windows
228:008,12['  ]| of the Capitol, and a clear, warm shadow rested on$4$ 
228:008,13['  ]| the figures and made them more mildly human.  Isabel 
228:008,14['  ]| sat there a long time, under the charm of their 
228:008,15['  ]| motionless grace, wondering to$4$ what, of their experience,
228:008,16['  ]| their absent eyes were open, and how, to$4$ our
228:008,17['  ]| ears, their alien lips would sound.  The dark red walls
228:008,18['  ]| of the room threw them into relief; the polished marble
228:008,19['  ]| floor reflected their beauty.  She had seen them all
228:008,20['  ]| before, but her enjoyment repeated itself, and it was
228:008,21['  ]| all the greater because she was glad again, for$4$ the 
228:008,22['  ]| time, to$9$ be alone.  At last, however, her attention
228:008,23['  ]| lapsed, drawn off by$4$ a deeper tide of life.  An occasional
228:008,24['  ]| tourist came in$5$, stopped and stared a moment
228:008,25['  ]| at the Dying*Gladiator, and then passed out of the 
228:008,26['  ]| other door, creaking over the smooth pavement.  At
228:008,27['  ]| the end of half an hour Gilbert*Osmond reappeared,
228:008,28['  ]| apparently in$4$ advance of his companions.  He strolled
228:008,29['  ]| toward her slowly, with his hands behind him and 
228:008,30['  ]| his usual enquiring, yet not quite appealing smile.
228:008,31[C  ]| "I am surprised to$9$ find you alone, I thought you had 
228:008,32[C  ]| company."
228:009,01[A  ]| "So$5#2$ I have ~~ the best."  
228:009,01['  ]| And she glanced at the 
228:009,02['  ]| Antinous and the Faun.
228:009,03[C  ]| "Do you call them better company than an English 
228:009,04[C  ]| peer?"
228:009,05[A  ]| "Ah, my English peer left me some time ago."
228:009,06['  ]| She got up$5$, speaking with intention a little dryly.
228:009,07['  ]| Mr%*Osmond noted her dryness, which$6#1$ contributed
228:009,08['  ]| for$4$ him to$4$ the interest of his question.  
228:009,08[C  ]| "I am afraid
228:009,09[C  ]| that$3$ what I heard the other evening is true: you are
228:009,10[C  ]| rather cruel to$4$ that$6#2$ nobleman."
228:009,11['  ]| Isabel looked a moment at the vanquished Gladiator.
228:009,12[A  ]| "It is not true.  I am scrupulously kind."
228:009,13[C  ]| "That$6#2$ is exactly what I mean!"  
228:009,13['  ]| Gilbert*Osmond
228:009,14['  ]| returned, and with such happy hilarity that$3$ his joke
228:009,15['  ]| needs to$9$ be explained.  We know that$3$ he was fond of 
228:009,16['  ]| originals, or rarities, of the superior and the exquisite;
228:009,17['  ]| and now that$3$ he had seen Lord*Warburton, whom
228:009,18['  ]| he thought a very fine example of his race and order,
228:009,19['  ]| he perceived a new attraction in$4$ the idea of taking to$4$ 
228:009,20['  ]| himself a young lady who$6#1$ had qualified herself to$9$
228:009,21['  ]| figure in$4$ his collection of choice objects by$4$ declining
228:009,22['  ]| so$5#1$ noble a hand.  Gilbert*Osmond had a high appreciation 
228:009,23['  ]| of this particular patriciate; not so$5#1$ much for$4$
228:009,24['  ]| its distinction, which$6#1$ he thought easily surpassable,
228:009,25['  ]| as for$4$ its solid actuality.  He had never forgiven his
228:009,26['  ]| star for$4$ not appointing him to$4$ an English dukedom,
228:009,27['  ]| and he could measure the unexpectedness of such
228:009,28['  ]| conduct as Isabel's.  
228:009,28@c   | It would be proper that$3$ the 
228:009,29@c   | woman he might marry should have done something
228:009,30@c   | of that$6#2$ sort.
229:010,01['  ]| Ralph%*Touchett, in$4$ talk with his excellent friend,
229:010,02['  ]| had rather markedly qualified, as we know, his recognition 
229:010,03['  ]| of Gilbert*Osmond's personal merits; but 
229:010,04['  ]| he might really have felt himself illiberal in$4$ the light
229:010,05['  ]| of that$6#2$ gentleman's conduct during the rest of the 
229:010,06['  ]| visit to$4$ Rome.  Osmond spent a portion of each day 
229:010,07['  ]| with Isabel and her companions, and ended by$4$ affecting 
229:010,08['  ]| them as the easiest of men to$9$ live with.  Who$6#2$
229:010,09['  ]| would not have seen that$3$ he could command, as it 
229:010,10['  ]| were, both tact and gaiety? ~~ which$6#1$ perhaps was 
229:010,11['  ]| exactly why Ralph had made his old-time look of 
229:010,12['  ]| superficial sociability a reproach to$4$ him.  Even Isabel's
229:010,13['  ]| invidious kinsman was obliged to$9$ admit that$3$ 
229:010,14@b   | he was just now a delightful associate.  
229:010,14['  ]| His good humour
229:010,15['  ]| was imperturbable, his knowledge of the right 
229:010,16['  ]| fact, his production of the right word, as convenient
229:010,17['  ]| as the friendly flicker of a match for$4$ your cigarette.
229:010,18['  ]| Clearly he was amused ~~ as amused as a man could
229:010,19['  ]| be who$6#1$ was so$5#1$ little ever surprised, and that$6#2$ made
229:010,20['  ]| him almost applausive.  It was not that$3$ his spirits were 
229:010,21['  ]| visibly high ~~ he would never, in$4$ the concert of pleasure,
229:010,22['  ]| touch the big drum by$4$ so$5#1$ much as a knuckle: he
229:010,23['  ]| had a mortal dislike to$4$ the high, ragged note, to$4$ what 
229:010,24['  ]| he called random ravings.  He thought 
229:010,24@c   | Miss*Archer
229:010,25@c   | sometimes of too precipitate a readiness.  It was pity
229:010,26@c   | she had that$6#2$ fault, because if she had not had it she 
229:010,27@c   | would really have had none; she would have been
229:011,01@c   | as smooth to$4$ his general need of her as handled ivory
229:011,02@c   | to$4$ the palm.  
229:011,02['  ]| If he was not personally loud, however,
229:011,03['  ]| he was deep, and during these closing days of the 
229:011,04['  ]| Roman May he knew a complacency that$6#1$ matched
229:011,05['  ]| with slow irregular walks under the pines of the Villa*Borghese,
229:011,06['  ]| among the small sweet meadow-flowers
229:011,07['  ]| and the mossy marbles.  He was pleased with everything;
229:011,08['  ]| he had never before been pleased with so$5#1$ 
229:011,09['  ]| many things at once.  Old impressions, old enjoyments,
229:011,10['  ]| renewed themselves; one evening, going home
229:011,11['  ]| to$4$ his room at the inn, he wrote down a little sonnet
229:011,12['  ]| to$4$ which$6#1$ he prefixed the title of "Rome*Revisited."
229:011,13['  ]| A day or two later he showed this piece of correct 
229:011,14['  ]| and ingenious verse to$4$ Isabel, explaining to$4$ her that$3$ 
229:011,15@c   | it was an Italian fashion to$9$ commemorate the occasions
229:011,16@c   | of life by$4$ a tribute to$4$ the muse.
229:011,17['  ]| He took his pleasures in$4$ general singly; he was
229:011,18['  ]| too often ~he would have admitted that$6#2$ ~~ too
229:011,19['  ]| sorely aware of something wrong, something ugly;
229:011,20['  ]| the fertilising dew of a conceivable felicity too seldom
229:011,21['  ]| descended on$4$ his spirit.  But at present he was 
229:011,22['  ]| happy ~~ happier than he had perhaps ever been in$4$
229:011,23['  ]| his life, and the feeling had a large foundation.  This
229:011,24['  ]| was simply the sense of success ~~ the most agreeable
229:011,25['  ]| emotion of the human heart.  Osmond had never
229:011,26['  ]| had too much of it; in$4$ this respect he had the irritation
229:011,27['  ]| of satiety, as he knew perfectly well and often 
229:011,28['  ]| reminded himself.  
229:011,28@c   | "Ah no$7$, I have not been spoiled;
229:011,29@c   | certainly I have not been spoiled," 
229:011,29['  ]| he used inwardly
229:011,30['  ]| to$9$ repeat.  
229:011,30@c   | "If I do succeed before I die I shall thoroughly
229:011,31@c   | have earned it."  
229:011,31['  ]| He was apt to$9$ reason
229:011,32['  ]| as if "earning" this boon consisted above all of 
229:012,01['  ]| covertly aching for$4$ it and might be confined to$4$ that$6#2$ 
229:012,02['  ]| exercise.  Absolutely void of it, also, his career
229:012,03['  ]| had not been; he might indeed have suggested to$4$ a 
229:012,04['  ]| spectator here and there that$3$ he was resting on$4$ vague
229:012,05['  ]| laurels.  But his triumphs were, some of them, now
229:012,06['  ]| too old; others had been too easy.  The present one
229:012,07['  ]| had been less arduous than might have been expected,
229:012,08['  ]| but had been easy ~~ that$3$ is had been rapid
229:012,09['  ]| ~~ only because he had made an altogether exceptional 
229:012,10['  ]| effort, a greater effort than he had believed
229:012,11['  ]| it in$4$ him to$9$ make.  The desire to$9$ have something or 
229:012,12['  ]| other to$9$ show for$4$ his "parts" ~~ to$9$ show somehow
229:012,13['  ]| or other ~~ had been the dream of his youth; but as
229:012,14['  ]| the years went on$5$ the conditions attached to$4$ any 
229:012,15['  ]| marked proof of rarity had affected him more and 
229:012,16['  ]| more as gross and detestable; like$4$ the swallowing
229:012,17['  ]| of mugs of beer to$9$ advertise what one could "stand."
229:012,18['  ]| If an anonymous drawing on$4$ a museum wall had
229:012,19['  ]| been conscious and watchful it might have known
229:012,20['  ]| this peculiar pleasure of being at last and all of a 
229:012,21['  ]| sudden identified ~~ as from the hand of a great master
229:012,22['  ]| ~~ by$4$ the so$5#1$ high and so$5#1$ unnoticed fact of style.
229:012,23@c   | His "style" was what the girl had discovered with a 
229:012,24@c   | little help; and now, beside herself enjoying it, she
229:012,25@c   | should publish it to$4$ the world without his having any
229:012,26@c   | of the trouble.  She should do the thing \for$4$\ him, and
229:012,27@c   | he would not have waited in$4$ vain.
229:012,28['  ]| Shortly before the time fixed in$4$ advance for$4$ her departure
229:012,29['  ]| this young lady received from Mrs*%Touchett
229:012,30['  ]| a telegram running as follows: 
229:012,30[G  ]| "Leave Florence
229:012,31[G  ]| 4th June for$4$ Bellaggio, and take you if you have not
229:012,32[G  ]| other views.  But can not wait if you dawdle in$4$ Rome."
229:013,01['  ]| The dawdling in$4$ Rome was very pleasant, but Isabel
229:013,02['  ]| had different views, and she let her aunt know she
229:013,03['  ]| would immediately join her.  She told Gilbert*Osmond
229:013,04['  ]| that$3$ 
229:013,04@a   | she had done so$5#2$, 
229:013,04['  ]| and he replied that$3$, 
229:013,04@c   | spending
229:013,05@c   | many of his summers as well as his winters in$4$
229:013,06@c   | Italy, he himself would loiter a little longer in$4$ the 
229:013,07@c   | cool shadow of Saint*Peter's.  He would not return to$4$ 
229:013,08@c   | Florence for$4$ ten days more, and in$4$ that$6#2$ time she would
229:013,09@c   | have started for$4$ Bellaggio.  It might be months in$4$ this
229:013,10@c   | case before he should see her again.  
229:013,10['  ]| This exchange
229:013,11['  ]| took place in$4$ the large decorated sitting-room occupied 
229:013,12['  ]| by$4$ our friends at the hotel; it was late in$4$ the 
229:013,13['  ]| evening, and Ralph*Touchett was to$9$ take his cousin
229:013,14['  ]| back to$4$ Florence on$4$ the morrow.  Osmond had found
229:013,15['  ]| the girl alone; Miss*Stackpole had contracted a
229:013,16['  ]| friendship with a delightful American family on$4$ the 
229:013,17['  ]| fourth floor and had mounted the interminable staircase
229:013,18['  ]| to$9$ pay them a visit.  Henrietta contracted friendships, 
229:013,19['  ]| in$4$ travelling, with great freedom, and had
229:013,20['  ]| formed in$4$ railway-carriages several that$6#1$ were among
229:013,21['  ]| her most valued ties.  Ralph was making arrangements
229:013,22['  ]| for$4$ the morrow's journey, and Isabel sat alone
229:013,23['  ]| in$4$ a wilderness of yellow upholstery.  The chairs
229:013,24['  ]| and sofas were orange; the walls and windows were 
229:013,25['  ]| draped in$4$ purple and gilt.  The mirrors, the pictures
229:013,26['  ]| had great flamboyant frames; the ceiling was deeply
229:013,27['  ]| vaulted and painted over with naked muses and
229:013,28['  ]| cherubs.  For$4$ Osmond the place was ugly to$4$ distress;
229:013,29['  ]| the false colours, the sham splendour were like$4$ vulgar,
229:013,30['  ]| bragging, lying talk.  Isabel had taken in$4$ hand a volume
229:013,31['  ]| of Ampe`re, presented, on$4$ their arrival in$4$ Rome,
229:013,32['  ]| by$4$ Ralph; but though she held it in$4$ her lap with her
229:014,01['  ]| finger vaguely kept in$4$ the place she was not impatient
229:014,02['  ]| to$9$ pursue her study.  A lamp covered with a drooping
229:014,03['  ]| veil of pink tissue-paper burned on$4$ the table beside
229:014,04['  ]| her and diffused a strange pale rosiness over the 
229:014,05['  ]| scene.
229:014,06[C  ]| "You say you will$1$ come back; but who$6#2$ knows?"
229:014,07['  ]| Gilbert*Osmond said.  
229:014,07[C  ]| "I think you are much more
229:014,08[C  ]| likely to$9$ start on$4$ your voyage round the world.  You are
229:014,09[C  ]| under no$2$ obligation to$9$ come back; you can do exactly
229:014,10[C  ]| what you choose; you can roam through space."
229:014,11[A  ]| "Well, Italy is a part of space,"  
229:014,11['  ]| Isabel answered.
229:014,12[A  ]| "I can take it on$4$ the way."
229:014,13[C  ]| "On$4$ the way round the world?  No$7$, do not do that$6#2$.
229:014,14[C  ]| Do not put us in$4$ a parenthesis ~~ give us a chapter to$4$ 
229:014,15[C  ]| ourselves.  I do not want to$9$ see you on$4$ your travels.
229:014,16[C  ]| I would rather see you when they are over.  I should like$1$ to$9$ 
229:014,17[C  ]| see you when you are tired and satiated," 
229:014,17['  ]| Osmond
229:014,18['  ]| added in$4$ a moment.  
229:014,18[C  ]| "I shall prefer you in$4$ that$6#2$ state."
229:014,19['  ]| Isabel, with her eyes bent, fingered the pages of 
229:014,20['  ]| M*%Ampe`re.  
229:014,20[A  ]| "You turn things into ridicule without
229:014,21[A  ]| seeming to$9$ do it, though not, I think, without intending
229:014,22[A  ]| it.  You have no$2$ respect for$4$ my travels ~~ you think
229:014,23[A  ]| them ridiculous."
229:014,24[C  ]| "Where do you find that$6#2$?"
229:014,25['  ]| She went on$5$ in$4$ the same tone, fretting the edge of
229:014,26['  ]| her book with the paper-knife.  
229:014,26[A  ]| "You see my ignorance, 
229:014,27[A  ]| my blunders, the way I wander about as if the 
229:014,28[A  ]| world belonged to$4$ me, simply because ~~ because it
229:014,29[A  ]| has been put into my power to$9$ do so$5#2$.  You do not think
229:014,30[A  ]| a woman ought to$9$ do that$6#2$.  You think it bold and 
229:014,31[A  ]| ungraceful."
229:014,32[C  ]| "I think it beautiful," 
229:014,32['  ]| said Osmond.  
229:014,32[C  ]| "You know
229:015,01[C  ]| my opinions ~~ I have treated you to$4$ enough of them.
229:015,02[C  ]| Do not you remember my telling you that$3$ one ought
229:015,03[C  ]| to$9$ make one's life a work of art?  You looked rather
229:015,04[C  ]| shocked at first; but then I told you that$3$ it was exactly 
229:015,05[C  ]| what you seemed to$4$ me to$9$ be trying to$9$ do with 
229:015,06[C  ]| your own."
229:015,07['  ]| She looked up$5$ from her book.  
229:015,07[A  ]| "What you despise
229:015,08[A  ]| most in$4$ the world is bad, is stupid art."
229:015,09[C  ]| "Possibly.  But yours seem to$4$ me very clear and
229:015,10[C  ]| very good."
229:015,11[A  ]| "If I were to$9$ go to$4$ Japan next winter you would
229:015,12[A  ]| laugh at me," 
229:015,12['  ]| she went on$5$.
229:015,13['  ]| Osmond gave a smile ~~ a keen one, but not
229:015,14['  ]| a laugh, for$3$ the tone of their conversation was not
229:015,15['  ]| jocose.  Isabel had in$4$ fact her solemnity; he had seen
229:015,16['  ]| it before.  
229:015,16[C  ]| "You have an imagination that$6#1$ startles
229:015,17[C  ]| one!"
229:015,18[A  ]| "That$6#2$ is exactly what I say.  You think such an 
229:015,19[A  ]| idea absurd."
229:015,20[C  ]| "I would give my little finger to$9$ go to$4$ Japan; it is
229:015,21[C  ]| one of the countries I want most to$9$ see.  can not you
229:015,22[C  ]| believe that$6#2$, with my taste for$4$ old lacquer?"
229:015,23[A  ]| "I have not a taste for$4$ old lacquer to$9$ excuse me,"
229:015,24['  ]| said Isabel.
229:015,25[C  ]| "You have a better excuse ~~ the means of going.
229:015,26[C  ]| You are quite wrong in$4$ your theory that$3$ I laugh at you.
229:015,27[C  ]| I do not know what has put it into your head."
229:015,28[A  ]| "It would not be remarkable if you did think it
229:015,29[A  ]| ridiculous that$3$ I should have the means to$9$ travel when
229:015,30[A  ]| you have not; for$3$ you know everything, and I know
229:015,31[A  ]| nothing."
229:015,32[C  ]| "The more reason why you should travel and 
229:016,01[C  ]| learn," 
229:016,01['  ]| smiled Osmond.  
229:016,01[C  ]| "Besides," 
229:016,01['  ]| he added as if it
229:016,02['  ]| were a point to$9$ be made, 
229:016,02[C  ]| "I do not know everything."
229:016,03['  ]| Isabel was not struck with the oddity of his saying
229:016,04['  ]| this gravely; she was thinking that$3$ 
229:016,04@a   | the pleasantest
229:016,05@a   | incident of her life ~~ 
229:016,05['  ]| so$5#2$ it pleased her to$9$ qualify these 
229:016,06['  ]| too few days in$4$ Rome, which$6#1$ she might musingly
229:016,07['  ]| have likened to$4$ the figure of some small princess of
229:016,08['  ]| one of the ages of dress overmuffled in$4$ a mantle of
229:016,09['  ]| state and dragging a train that$6#1$ it took pages or historians 
229:016,10['  ]| to$9$ hold up$5$ ~~ 
229:016,10@a   | that$3$ this felicity was coming to$4$ an 
229:016,11@a   | end.  
229:016,11['  ]| That$3$ most of the interest of the time had been
229:016,12['  ]| owing to$4$ Mr*%Osmond was a reflexion she was not
229:016,13['  ]| just now at pains to$9$ make; she had already done the 
229:016,14['  ]| point abundant justice.  But she said to$4$ herself that$3$ 
229:016,14@a   | if
229:016,15@a   | there were a danger they should never meet again, perhaps
229:016,16@a   | after all it would be as well.  
229:016,16['  ]| Happy things do not 
229:016,17['  ]| repeat themselves, and her adventure wore already 
229:016,18['  ]| the changed, the seaward face of some romantic
229:016,19['  ]| island from which$6#1$, after feasting on$4$ purple grapes,
229:016,20['  ]| she was putting off while the breeze rose.  
229:016,20@a   | She might 
229:016,21@a   | come back to$4$ Italy and find him different ~~ this
229:016,22@a   | strange man who$6#1$ pleased her just as he was; and it
229:016,23@a   | would be better not to$9$ come than run the risk of that$6#2$.
229:016,24@a   | But if she was not to$9$ come the greater the pity that$3$ 
229:016,25@a   | the chapter was closed; 
229:016,25['  ]| she felt for$4$ a moment a pang
229:016,26['  ]| that$6#2$ touched the source of tears.  The sensation kept
229:016,27['  ]| her silent, and Gilbert*Osmond was silent too; he
229:016,28['  ]| was looking at her.  
229:016,28[C  ]| "Go everywhere," 
229:016,28['  ]| he said at last,
229:016,29['  ]| in$4$ a low, kind voice; 
229:016,29[C  ]| "do everything; get everything
229:016,30[C  ]| out of life.  Be happy ~~ be triumphant."
229:016,31[A  ]| "What do you mean by$4$ being triumphant?"
229:016,32[C  ]| "Well, doing what you like$1$."
229:017,01[A  ]| "To$9$ triumph, then, it seems to$4$ me, is to$9$ fail!  Doing
229:017,02[A  ]| all the vain things one likes is often very tiresome."
229:017,03[C  ]| "Exactly," 
229:017,03['  ]| said Osmond with his quiet quickness.
229:017,04[C  ]| "As I intimated just now, you will$1$ be tired some day."
229:017,05['  ]| He paused a moment and then he went on$5$: 
229:017,05[C  ]| "I do not
229:017,06[C  ]| know whether I had better not wait till then for$4$ something
229:017,07[C  ]| I want to$9$ say to$4$ you."
229:017,08[A  ]| "Ah, I can not advise you without knowing what it
229:017,09[A  ]| is.  But I am horrid when I am tired," 
229:017,09['  ]| Isabel added
229:017,10['  ]| with due inconsequence.
229:017,11[C  ]| "I do not believe that$6#2$.  You are angry, sometimes
229:017,12[C  ]| ~~ that$6#2$ I can believe, though I have never seen it.  But
229:017,13[C  ]| I am sure you are never ""cross""."
229:017,14[A  ]| "Not even when I lose my temper?"
229:017,15[C  ]| "You do not lose it ~~ you find it, and that$6#2$ must be 
229:017,16[C  ]| beautiful."  
229:017,16['  ]| Osmond spoke with a noble earnestness.
229:017,17[C  ]| "They must be great moments to$9$ see."
229:017,18[A  ]| "If I could only find it now!" 
229:017,18['  ]| Isabel nervously
229:017,19['  ]| cried.
229:017,20[C  ]| "I am not afraid; I should fold my arms and admire 
229:017,21[C  ]| you.  I am speaking very seriously."  
229:017,21['  ]| He leaned
229:017,22['  ]| forward, a hand on$4$ each knee; for$4$ some moments he
229:017,23['  ]| bent his eyes on$4$ the floor.  
229:017,23[C  ]| "What I wish to$9$ say to$4$ 
229:017,24[C  ]| you," 
229:017,24['  ]| he went on$5$ at last, looking up$5$, 
229:017,24[C  ]| "is that$3$ I find
229:017,25[C  ]| I am in$4$ love with you."
229:017,26['  ]| She instantly rose.  
229:017,26[A  ]| "Ah, keep that$6#2$ till I \am\ tired!"
229:017,27[C  ]| "Tired of hearing it from others?"  
229:017,27['  ]| He sat there
229:017,28[;  ]| raising his eyes to$4$ her.  
229:017,28[C  ]| "No$7$, you may heed it now or
229:017,29[C  ]| never, as you please.  But after all I must say it now."
229:017,30['  ]| She had turned away, but in$4$ the movement she had
229:017,31['  ]| stopped herself and dropped her gaze upon$4$ him.  The
229:017,32['  ]| two remained a while in$4$ this situation, exchanging a 
229:018,01['  ]| long look ~~ the large, conscious look of the critical
229:018,02['  ]| hours of life.  Then he got up$5$ and came near her,
229:018,03['  ]| deeply respectful, as if he were afraid he had been too
229:018,04['  ]| familiar.  
229:018,04[C  ]| "I am absolutely in$4$ love with you."
229:018,05['  ]| He had repeated the announcement in$4$ a tone of almost
229:018,06['  ]| impersonal discretion, like$4$ a man who$6#1$ expected
229:018,07['  ]| very little from it but who$6#1$ spoke for$4$ his own needed
229:018,08['  ]| relief.  The tears came into her eyes: this time they 
229:018,09['  ]| obeyed the sharpness of the pang that$6#1$ suggested to$4$
229:018,10['  ]| her somehow the slipping of a fine bolt ~~ backward,
229:018,11['  ]| forward, she could not have said which$6#1$.  The words
229:018,12['  ]| he had uttered made him, as he stood there, beautiful
229:018,13['  ]| and generous, invested him as with the golden 
229:018,14['  ]| air of early autumn; but, morally speaking, she retreated
229:018,15['  ]| before them ~~ facing him still ~~ as she had
229:018,16['  ]| retreated in$4$ the other cases before a like$2$ encounter.
229:018,17[A  ]| "Oh do not say that$6#2$, please," 
229:018,17['  ]| she answered with an
229:018,18['  ]| intensity that$6#1$ expressed the dread of having, in$4$ this
229:018,19['  ]| case too, to$9$ choose and decide.  What made her dread 
229:018,20['  ]| great was precisely the force which$6#1$, as it would seem,
229:018,21['  ]| ought to$9$ have banished all dread ~~ the sense of something
229:018,22['  ]| within herself, deep down, that$6#1$ she supposed to$9$ 
229:018,23['  ]| be inspired and trustful passion.  It was there like$4$ a 
229:018,24['  ]| large sum stored in$4$ a bank ~~ which$6#1$ there was a terror
229:018,25['  ]| in$4$ having to$9$ begin to$9$ spend.  If she touched it, it 
229:018,26['  ]| would all come out.
229:018,27[C  ]| "I have not the idea that$3$ it will$1$ matter much to$4$ you,"
229:018,28['  ]| said Osmond.  
229:018,28[C  ]| I have too little to$9$ offer you.  What I 
229:018,29[C  ]| have ~~ it is enough for$4$ me; but it is not enough for$4$
229:018,30[C  ]| you.  I have neither fortune, nor fame, nor extrinsic advantages
229:018,31[C  ]| of any kind.  So$3$ I offer nothing.  I only tell
229:018,32[C  ]| you because I think it can not offend you, and some day
229:019,01[C  ]| or other it may give you pleasure.  It gives me pleasure, 
229:019,02[C  ]| I assure you," 
229:019,02['  ]| he went on$5$, standing there before
229:019,03['  ]| her, considerately inclined to$4$ her, turning his hat,
229:019,04['  ]| which$6#1$ he had taken up$5$, slowly round with a movement
229:019,05['  ]| which$6#1$ had all the decent tremor of awkwardness
229:019,06['  ]| and none of its oddity, and presenting to$4$ her his firm,
229:019,07['  ]| refined, slightly ravaged face.  
229:019,07[C  ]| "It gives me no$2$ pain,
229:019,08[C  ]| because it is perfectly simple.  For$4$ me you will$1$ always
229:019,09[C  ]| be the most important woman in$4$ the world."
229:019,10['  ]| Isabel looked at herself in$4$ this character ~~ looked
229:019,11['  ]| intently, thinking she filled it with a certain grace.
229:019,12['  ]| But what she said was not an expression of any such
229:019,13['  ]| complacency.  
229:019,13[A  ]| "You do not offend me; but you ought
229:019,14[A  ]| to$9$ remember that$3$, without being offended, one may
229:019,15[A  ]| be incommoded, troubled." 
229:019,15@a   | "Incommoded:" 
229:019,15['  ]| she 
229:019,16['  ]| heard herself saying that$6#2$, and it struck her as 
229:019,16@a   | a ridiculous 
229:019,17@a   | word.  
229:019,17['  ]| But it was what stupidly came to$4$ her.
229:019,18[C  ]| "I remember perfectly.  Of course you are surprised
229:019,19[C  ]| and startled.  But if it is nothing but that$6#2$, it will$1$ pass
229:019,20[C  ]| away.  And it will$1$ perhaps leave something that$6#1$ I 
229:019,21[C  ]| may not be ashamed of."
229:019,22[A  ]| "I do not know what it may leave.  You see at all
229:019,23[A  ]| events that$3$ I am not overwhelmed," 
229:019,23['  ]| said Isabel with
229:019,24['  ]| rather a pale smile.  
229:019,24[A  ]| "I am not too troubled to$9$ think.
229:019,25[A  ]| And I think that$3$ I am glad we are separating ~~ that$3$
229:019,26[A  ]| I leave Rome to-morrow."
229:019,27[C  ]| "Of course I do not agree with you there."
229:019,28[A  ]| "I do not at all \know\ you," 
229:019,28['  ]| she added abruptly; and
229:019,29['  ]| then she coloured as she heard herself saying what
229:019,30['  ]| she had said almost a year before to$4$ Lord*Warburton.
229:019,31[C  ]| "If you were not going away you would know me 
229:019,32[C  ]| better."
229:020,01[A  ]| "I shall do that$6#2$ some other time."
229:020,02[C  ]| "I hope so$5#2$.  I am very easy to$9$ know."
229:020,03[A  ]| "No$7$, no$7$," 
229:020,03['  ]| she emphatically answered ~~ 
229:020,03[A  ]| "there
229:020,04[A  ]| you are not sincere.  You are not easy to$9$ know; no*one
229:020,05[A  ]| could be less so$5#2$."
229:020,06[C  ]| "Well," 
229:020,06['  ]| he laughed, 
229:020,06[C  ]| "I said that$3$ because I know
229:020,07[C  ]| myself.  It may be a boast, but I do."
229:020,08[A  ]| "Very likely; but you are very wise."
229:020,09[C  ]| "So$5#2$ are you, Miss*Archer!" 
229:020,09['  ]| Osmond exclaimed.
229:020,10[A  ]| "I do not feel so$5#2$ just now.  Still, I am wise enough to$9$ 
229:020,11[A  ]| think you had better go.  Good-night."
229:020,12[C  ]| "God bless you!" 
229:020,12['  ]| said Gilbert*Osmond, taking
229:020,13['  ]| the hand which$6#1$ she failed to$9$ surrender.  After which$6#1$ 
229:020,14['  ]| he added: 
229:020,14[C  ]| "If we meet again you will$1$ find me as you
229:020,15[C  ]| leave me.  If we do not I shall be so$5#2$ all the same."
229:020,16[A  ]| "Thank you very much.  Good-bye."
229:020,17['  ]| There was something quietly firm about Isabel's visitor;
229:020,18['  ]| he might go of his own movement, but would not
229:020,19['  ]| be dismissed.  
229:020,19[C  ]| "There is one thing more.  I have not
229:020,20[C  ]| asked anything of you ~~ not even a thought in$4$ the 
229:020,21[C  ]| future; you must do me that$6#2$ justice.  But there is a 
229:020,22[C  ]| little service I should like$1$ to$9$ ask.  I shall not return
229:020,23[C  ]| home for$4$ several days; Rome is delightful, and it is
229:020,24[C  ]| a good place for$4$ a man in$4$ my state of mind.  Oh, I 
229:020,25[C  ]| know you are sorry to$9$ leave it; but you are right to$9$ do
229:020,26[C  ]| what your aunt wishes." 
229:020,27[A  ]| "She does not even wish it!" 
229:020,27['  ]| Isabel broke out 
229:020,28['  ]| strangely.
229:020,29['  ]| Osmond was apparently on$4$ the point of saying
229:020,30['  ]| something that$6#1$ would match these words, but he
229:020,31['  ]| changed his mind and rejoined simply: 
229:020,31[C  ]| "Ah well,
229:020,32[C  ]| it is proper you should go with her, very proper. Do
229:021,01[C  ]| everything that$6#1$ is proper; I go in$5$ for$4$ that$6#2$.  Excuse my
229:021,02[C  ]| being so$5#1$ patronising.  You say you do not know me,
229:021,03[C  ]| but when you do you will$1$ discover what a worship I 
229:021,04[C  ]| have for$4$ propriety."
229:021,05[A  ]| "You are not conventional?" 
229:021,05['  ]| Isabel gravely asked.
229:021,06[C  ]| "I like$1$ the way you utter that$6#2$ word! No$7$, I am not
229:021,07[C  ]| conventional: I am convention itself.  You do not understand 
229:021,08[C  ]| that$6#2$?" 
229:021,08['  ]| And he paused a moment, smiling.
229:021,09[C  ]| "I should like$1$ to$9$ explain it."  
229:021,09['  ]| Then with a sudden,
229:021,10['  ]| quick, bright naturalness, 
229:021,10[C  ]| "Do come back again,"
229:021,11['  ]| he pleaded.  
229:021,11[C  ]| "There are so$5#1$ many things we might 
229:021,12[C  ]| talk about."
229:021,13['  ]| She stood there with lowered eyes.  
229:021,13[A  ]| "What service 
229:021,14[A  ]| did you speak of just now?"
229:021,15[C  ]| "Go and see my little daughter before you leave
229:021,16[C  ]| Florence.  She is alone at the villa; I decided not to$9$ 
229:021,17[C  ]| send her to$4$ my sister, who$6#1$ has not at all my ideas.
229:021,18[C  ]| Tell her she must love her poor father very much,"
229:021,19['  ]| said Gilbert*Osmond gently.
229:021,20[A  ]| "It will$1$ be a great pleasure to$4$ me to$9$ go," 
229:021,20['  ]| Isabel
229:021,21['  ]| answered.  
229:021,21[A  ]| "I will$1$ tell her what you say.  Once more
229:021,22[A  ]| good-bye."
229:021,23['  ]| On$4$ this he took a rapid, respectful leave.  When
229:021,24['  ]| he had gone she stood a moment looking about her
229:021,25['  ]| and seated herself slowly and with an air of deliberation.
229:021,26['  ]| She sat there till her companions came back,
229:021,27['  ]| with folded hands, gazing at the ugly carpet.  Her
229:021,28['  ]| agitation ~~ for$3$ it had not diminished ~~ was very
229:021,29['  ]| still, very deep.  What had happened was something
229:021,30['  ]| that$6#1$ for$4$ a week past her imagination had been going
229:021,31['  ]| forward to$9$ meet; but here, when it came, she stopped
229:021,32['  ]| ~~ that$6#2$ sublime principle somehow broke down.  The
229:022,01['  ]| working of this young lady's spirit was strange, and 
229:022,02['  ]| I can only give it to$4$ you as I see it, not hoping to$9$ 
229:022,03['  ]| make it seem altogether natural.  Her imagination,
229:022,04['  ]| as I say, now hung back: there was a last vague
229:022,05['  ]| space it could not cross ~~ a dusky, uncertain tract
229:022,06['  ]| which$6#1$ looked ambiguous and even slightly treacherous,
229:022,07['  ]| like$4$ a moorland seen in$4$ the winter twilight.
229:022,08['  ]| But she was to$9$ cross it yet.
230:023,01['  ]| She returned on$4$ the morrow to$4$ Florence, under her
230:023,02['  ]| cousin's escort, and Ralph*Touchett, though usually 
230:023,03['  ]| restive under railway discipline, thought very well
230:023,04['  ]| of the successive hours passed in$4$ the train that$6#1$ hurried 
230:023,05['  ]| his companion away from the city now distinguished
230:023,06['  ]| by$4$ Gilbert*Osmond's preference ~~ hours
230:023,07['  ]| that$6#1$ were to$9$ form the first stage in$4$ a larger scheme
230:023,08['  ]| of travel.  Miss*Stackpole had remained behind;
230:023,09['  ]| she was planning a little trip to$4$ Naples, to$9$ be carried
230:023,10['  ]| out with Mr%*Bantling's aid.  Isabel was to$9$ have 
230:023,11['  ]| three days in$4$ Florence before the 4th of June, the
230:023,12['  ]| date of Mrs%*Touchett's departure, and she determined 
230:023,13['  ]| to$9$ devote the last of these to$4$ her promise to$9$ 
230:023,14['  ]| call on$4$ Pansy*Osmond.  Her plan, however, seemed
230:023,15['  ]| for$4$ a moment likely to$9$ modify itself in$4$ deference to$4$ 
230:023,16['  ]| an idea of Madame*Merle.  This lady was still at
230:023,17['  ]| Casa*Touchett; but she too was on$4$ the point of 
230:023,18['  ]| leaving Florence, her next station being an ancient
230:023,19['  ]| castle in$4$ the mountains of Tuscany, the residence
230:023,20['  ]| of a noble family of that$6#2$ country, whose acquaintance
230:023,21['  ]| (she had known them, as she said, 
230:023,21@h   | "forever")
230:023,22['  ]| seemed to$4$ Isabel, in$4$ the light of certain photographs
230:023,23['  ]| of their immense crenellated dwelling which$6#1$ her
230:023,24['  ]| friend was able to$9$ show her, a precious privilege.
230:023,25['  ]| She mentioned to$4$ this fortunate woman that$3$ 
230:023,25@a   | Mr%*Osmond
230:023,26@a   | had asked her to$9$ take a look at his daughter, 
230:024,01['  ]| but did not mention that$3$ he had also made her a 
230:024,02['  ]| declaration of love.
230:024,03[H  ]| "\9Ah, 9comme 9cela 9se 9trouve\!"  
230:024,03['  ]| Madame*Merle
230:024,04['  ]| exclaimed.  
230:024,04[H  ]| "I myself have been thinking it would
230:024,05[H  ]| be a kindness to$9$ pay the child a little visit before I 
230:024,06[H  ]| go off."
230:024,07[A  ]| "We can go together then," 
230:024,07['  ]| Isabel reasonably
230:024,08['  ]| said: "reasonably" because the proposal was not
230:024,09['  ]| uttered in$4$ the spirit of enthusiasm.  She had prefigured
230:024,10['  ]| her small pilgrimage as made in$4$ solitude;
230:024,11['  ]| she should like$1$ it better so$5#2$.  She was nevertheless
230:024,12['  ]| prepared to$9$ sacrifice this mystic sentiment to$4$ her
230:024,13['  ]| great consideration for$4$ her friend.
230:024,14['  ]| That$6#2$ personage finely meditated.  
230:024,14[H  ]| "After all, why
230:024,15[H  ]| should we both go; having, each of us, so$5#1$ much to$9$ 
230:024,16[H  ]| do during these last hours?"
230:024,17[A  ]| "Very good; I can easily go alone."
230:024,18[H  ]| "I do not know about your going alone ~~ to$4$ the 
230:024,19[H  ]| house of a handsome bachelor.  He has been married 
230:024,20[H  ]| ~~ but so$5#1$ long ago!"
230:024,21['  ]| Isabel stared.  
230:024,21[A  ]| "When Mr%*Osmond is away what 
230:024,22[A  ]| does it matter?"
230:024,23[H  ]| "They do not know he is away, you see."
230:024,24[A  ]| "They?  Whom do you mean?"
230:024,25[H  ]| "Every*one.  But perhaps it does not signify."
230:024,26[A  ]| "If you were going why should not I?"  
230:024,26['  ]| Isabel
230:024,27['  ]| asked.
230:024,28[H  ]| "Because I am an old frump and you are a beautiful
230:024,29[H  ]| young woman."
230:024,30[A  ]| "Granting all that$6#2$, you have not promised."
230:024,31[H  ]| "How much you think of your promises!" 
230:024,31['  ]| said
230:024,32['  ]| the elder woman in$4$ mild mockery.
230:025,01[A  ]| "I think a great deal of my promises.  Does that$6#2$ 
230:025,02[A  ]| surprise you?"
230:025,03[H  ]| "You are right," 
230:025,03['  ]| Madame*Merle audibly reflected.
230:025,04[H  ]| "I really think you wish to$9$ be kind to$4$ the child."
230:025,05[A  ]| "I wish very much to$9$ be kind to$4$ her."
230:025,06[H  ]| "Go and see her then; no*one will$1$ be the wiser.
230:025,07[H  ]| And tell her I would have come if you had not.  Or rather,"
230:025,08['  ]| Madame*Merle added, 
230:025,08[H  ]| "\do not\ tell her.  She will$1$ not
230:025,09[H  ]| care."
230:025,10['  ]| As Isabel drove, in$4$ the publicity of an open vehicle,
230:025,11['  ]| along the winding way which$6#1$ led to$4$ Mr%*Osmond's
230:025,12['  ]| hill-top, she wondered what her friend had
230:025,13['  ]| meant by$4$ no*one's being the wiser.  Once in$4$ a while,
230:025,14['  ]| at large intervals, this lady, whose voyaging discretion,
230:025,15['  ]| as a general thing, was rather of the open sea
230:025,16['  ]| than of the risky channel, dropped a remark of ambiguous 
230:025,17['  ]| quality, struck a note that$6#1$ sounded false.
230:025,18@a   | What cared Isabel*Archer for$4$ the vulgar judgements
230:025,19@a   | of obscure people? and did Madame*Merle suppose
230:025,20@a   | that$3$ she was capable of doing a thing at all if it had
230:025,21@a   | to$9$ be sneakingly done?  Of course not: she must 
230:025,22@a   | have meant something else ~~ something which$6#1$ in$4$
230:025,23@a   | the press of the hours that$6#1$ preceded her departure
230:025,24@a   | she had not had time to$9$ explain. 
230:025,24['  ]| Isabel would return 
230:025,25['  ]| to$4$ this some day; there were sorts of things as to$4$ 
230:025,26['  ]| which$6#1$ she liked to$9$ be clear.  She heard Pansy strumming
230:025,27['  ]| at the piano in$4$ another place as she herself
230:025,28['  ]| was ushered into Mr%*Osmond's drawing-room; the 
230:025,29['  ]| little girl was "practising," and Isabel was pleased
230:025,30['  ]| to$9$ think she performed this duty with rigour.  She 
230:025,31['  ]| immediately came in$5$, smoothing down her frock,
230:025,32['  ]| and did the honours of her father's house with a
230:026,01['  ]| wide-eyed earnestness of courtesy.  Isabel sat there
230:026,02['  ]| half an hour, and Pansy rose to$4$ the occasion as the 
230:026,03['  ]| small, winged fairy in$4$ the pantomime soars by$4$ the 
230:026,04['  ]| aid of the dissimulated wire ~~ not chattering, but
230:026,05['  ]| conversing, and showing the same respectful interest 
230:026,06['  ]| in$4$ Isabel's affairs that$6#1$ Isabel was so$5#1$ good as to$9$ take
230:026,07['  ]| in$4$ hers.  Isabel wondered at her; she had never had 
230:026,08['  ]| so$5#1$ directly presented to$4$ her nose the white flower
230:026,09['  ]| of cultivated sweetness.  
230:026,09@a   | How well the child had
230:026,10@a   | been taught, 
230:026,10['  ]| said our admiring young woman; 
230:026,10@a   | how
230:026,11@a   | prettily she had been directed and fashioned; and 
230:026,12@a   | yet how simple, how natural, how innocent she had 
230:026,13@a   | been kept!  
230:026,13['  ]| Isabel was fond, ever, of the question
230:026,14['  ]| of character and quality, of sounding, as who$6#1$ should
230:026,15['  ]| say, the deep personal mystery, and it had pleased
230:026,16['  ]| her, up$5$ to$4$ this time, to$9$ be in$4$ doubt as to$4$ whether
230:026,17['  ]| this tender slip were not really all-knowing.  
230:026,17@a   | Was
230:026,18@a   | the extremity of her candour but the perfection of self-consciousness?
230:026,19@a   | Was it put on$5$ to$9$ please her father's
230:026,20@a   | visitor, or was it the direct expression of an unspotted 
230:026,21@a   | nature?  
230:026,21['  ]| The hour that$6#1$ Isabel spent in$4$ Mr%*Osmond's
230:026,22['  ]| beautiful empty, dusky rooms ~~ the windows
230:026,23['  ]| had been half-darkened, to$9$ keep out the heat, 
230:026,24['  ]| and here and there, through an easy crevice, the
230:026,25['  ]| splendid summer day peeped in$5$, lighting a gleam 
230:026,26['  ]| of faded colour or tarnished gilt in$4$ the rich gloom ~~
230:026,27['  ]| her interview with the daughter of the house, I say,
230:026,28['  ]| effectually settled this question.  
230:026,28@a   | Pansy was really 
230:026,29@a   | a blank page, a pure white surface, successfully
230:026,30@a   | kept so$5#2$; she had neither art, nor guile, nor temper,
230:026,31@a   | nor talent ~~ only two or three small exquisite instincts:
230:026,32@a   | for$4$ knowing a friend, for$4$ avoiding a mistake,
230:027,01@a   | for$4$ taking care of an old toy or a new frock.  Yet
230:027,02@a   | to$9$ be so$5#1$ tender was to$9$ be touching withal, and she
230:027,03@a   | could be felt as an easy victim of fate.  She would 
230:027,04@a   | have no$2$ will$0$, no$2$ power to$9$ resist, no$2$ sense of her own 
230:027,05@a   | importance; she would easily be mystified, easily 
230:027,06@a   | crushed: her force would be all in$4$ knowing when 
230:027,07@a   | and where to$9$ cling.  
230:027,07['  ]| She moved about the place with 
230:027,08['  ]| her visitor, who$6#1$ had asked leave to$9$ walk through 
230:027,09['  ]| the other rooms again, where Pansy gave her judgement 
230:027,10['  ]| on$4$ several works of art.  She spoke of her prospects, 
230:027,11['  ]| her occupations, her father's intentions; she 
230:027,12['  ]| was not egotistical, but felt the propriety of supplying
230:027,13['  ]| the information so$5#1$ distinguished a guest would 
230:027,14['  ]| naturally expect.
230:027,15[K  ]| "Please tell me," 
230:027,15['  ]| she said, 
230:027,15[K  ]| "Did papa, in$4$ Rome,
230:027,16[K  ]| go to$9$ see Madame*Catherine?  He told me he would
230:027,17[K  ]| if he had time. Perhaps he had not time.  Papa likes
230:027,18[K  ]| a great deal of time.  He wished to$9$ speak about my
230:027,19[K  ]| education; it is not finished yet, you know.  I do not 
230:027,20[K  ]| know what they can do with me more; but it appears 
230:027,21[K  ]| it is far from finished.  Papa told me one day he
230:027,22[K  ]| thought he would finish it himself; for$4$ the last year
230:027,23[K  ]| or two, at the convent, the masters that$6#1$ teach the 
230:027,24[K  ]| tall girls are so$5#1$ very dear.  Papa is not rich, and I 
230:027,25[K  ]| should be very sorry if he were to$9$ pay much money
230:027,26[K  ]| for$4$ me, because I do not think I am worth it.  I do not 
230:027,27[K  ]| learn quickly enough, and I have no$2$ memory.  For$4$
230:027,28[K  ]| what I am told, yes ~~ especially when it is pleasant;
230:027,29[K  ]| but not for$4$ what I learn in$4$ a book.  There was a 
230:027,30[K  ]| young girl who$6#1$ was my best friend, and they took
230:027,31[K  ]| her away from the convent, when she was fourteen,
230:027,32[K  ]| to$9$ make ~~ how do you say it in$4$ English? ~~ to$9$ make 
230:028,01[K  ]| a \dot\.  You do not say it in$4$ English?  I hope it is not
230:028,02[K  ]| wrong; I only mean they wished to$9$ keep the money
230:028,03[K  ]| to$9$ marry her.  I do not know whether it is for$4$ that$6#2$
230:028,04[K  ]| that$3$ papa wishes to$9$ keep the money ~~ to$9$ marry
230:028,05[K  ]| \me\.  It costs so$5#1$ much to$9$ marry!"  
230:028,05['  ]| Pansy went on$5$
230:028,06['  ]| with a sigh; 
230:028,06[K  ]| "I think papa might make that$6#2$ economy.
230:028,07[K  ]| At any rate I am too young to$9$ think about it
230:028,08[K  ]| yet, and I do not care for$4$ any gentleman; I mean
230:028,09[K  ]| for$4$ any but him.  If he were not my papa I should
230:028,10[K  ]| like$1$ to$9$ marry him;  I would rather be his daughter 
230:028,11[K  ]| than the wife of ~~ of some strange person.  I miss
230:028,12[K  ]| him very much, but not so$5#1$ much as you might think,
230:028,13[K  ]| for$3$ I have been so$5#1$ much away from him.  Papa has
230:028,14[K  ]| always been principally for$4$ holidays.  I miss Madame*Catherine
230:028,15[K  ]| almost more; but you must not tell
230:028,16[K  ]| him that$6#2$.  You shall not see him again?  I am very 
230:028,17[K  ]| sorry, and he will$1$ be sorry too. Of everyone who$6#1$ comes
230:028,18[K  ]| here I like$1$ you the best.  That$6#2$ is not a great compliment,
230:028,19[K  ]| for$3$ there are not many people.  It was very 
230:028,20[K  ]| kind of you to$9$ come to-day ~~ so$5#1$ far from your house;
230:028,21[K  ]| for$3$ I am really as yet only a child.  Oh, yes, I have only 
230:028,22[K  ]| the occupations of a child.  When did \you\ give them 
230:028,23[K  ]| up$5$, the occupations of a child? I should like$1$ to$9$ know
230:028,24[K  ]| how old you are, but I do not know whether it is right to$9$ 
230:028,25[K  ]| ask.  At the convent they told us that$3$ we must never 
230:028,26[K  ]| ask the age.  I do not like$1$ to$9$ do anything that$6#1$ is not
230:028,27[K  ]| expected; it looks as if one had not been properly
230:028,28[K  ]| taught.  I myself ~~ I should never like$1$ to$9$ be taken 
230:028,29[K  ]| by$4$ surprise.  Papa left directions for$4$ everything.  I 
230:028,30[K  ]| go to$4$ bed very early.  When the sun goes off that$6#2$ 
230:028,31[K  ]| side I go into the garden.  Papa left strict orders that$3$ 
230:028,32[K  ]| I was not to$9$ get scorched.  I always enjoy the view;
230:029,01[K  ]| the mountains are so$5#1$ graceful.  In$4$ Rome, from the
230:029,02[K  ]| convent, we saw nothing but roofs and bell-towers.
230:029,03[K  ]| I practise three hours.  I do not play very well.  You 
230:029,04[K  ]| play yourself?  I wish very much you would play something
230:029,05[K  ]| for$4$ me; papa has the idea that$3$ I should hear 
230:029,06[K  ]| good music.  Madame*Merle has played for$4$ me several times; 
230:029,07[K  ]| that$6#2$ is what I like$1$ best about Madame*Merle; 
230:029,08[K  ]| she has great facility.  I shall never have
230:029,09[K  ]| facility.  And I have no$2$ voice ~~ just a small sound
230:029,10[K  ]| like$4$ the squeak of a slate-pencil making flourishes."
230:029,11['  ]| Isabel gratified this respectful wish, drew off her
230:029,12['  ]| gloves and sat down to$4$ the piano, while Pansy, standing
230:029,13['  ]| beside her, watched her white hands move quickly
230:029,14['  ]| over the keys.  When she stopped she kissed the 
230:029,15['  ]| child good-bye, held her close, looked at her long. 
230:029,15[A  ]| "Be
230:029,16[A  ]| very good," 
230:029,16['  ]| she said; 
230:029,16[A  ]| "give pleasure to$4$ your father."
230:029,17[K  ]| "I think that$6#2$ is what I live for$4$," 
230:029,17['  ]| Pansy answered.
230:029,18[K  ]| "He has not much pleasure; he is rather a sad man."
230:029,19['  ]| Isabel listened to$4$ this assertion with an interest
230:029,20['  ]| which$6#1$ she felt it almost a torment to$9$ be obliged to$9$ conceal.
230:029,21['  ]| It was her pride that$6#1$ obliged her, and a certain
230:029,22['  ]| sense of decency; there were still other things in$4$ her
230:029,23['  ]| head which$6#1$ she felt a strong impulse, instantly
230:029,24['  ]| checked, to$9$ say to$4$ Pansy about her father; there were
230:029,25['  ]| things it would have given her pleasure to$9$ hear the 
230:029,26['  ]| child, to$9$ make the child, say.  But she no$2$ sooner became 
230:029,27['  ]| conscious of these things than her imagination
230:029,28['  ]| was hushed with horror at the idea of taking advantage 
230:029,29['  ]| of the little girl ~~ it was of this she would have
230:029,30['  ]| accused herself ~~ and of exhaling into the air where
230:029,31['  ]| he might still have a subtle sense for$4$ it any breath of
230:029,32['  ]| her charmed state.  She had come ~~ she had come; 
230:030,01['  ]| but she had stayed only an hour.  She rose quickly
230:030,02['  ]| from the music-stool; even then, however, she lingered
230:030,03['  ]| a moment, still holding her small companion,
230:030,04['  ]| drawing the child's sweet slimness closer and looking
230:030,05['  ]| down at her almost in$4$ envy.  She was obliged to$9$ confess 
230:030,06['  ]| it to$4$ herself ~~ 
230:030,06@a   | she would have taken a passionate
230:030,07@a   | pleasure in$4$ talking of Gilbert*Osmond to$4$ this innocent,
230:030,08@a   | diminutive creature who$6#1$ was so$5#1$ near him.  
230:030,08['  ]| But she
230:030,09['  ]| said no$2$ other word; she only kissed Pansy once again.
230:030,10['  ]| They went together through the vestibule, to$4$ the door
230:030,11['  ]| that$6#1$ opened on$4$ the court; and there her young hostess
230:030,12['  ]| stopped, looking rather wistfully beyond.  
230:030,12[K  ]| "I may go 
230:030,13[K  ]| no$2$ further.  I have promised papa not to$9$ pass this door."
230:030,14[A  ]| "You are right to$9$ obey him; he will$1$ never ask you 
230:030,15[A  ]| anything unreasonable."
230:030,16[K  ]| "I shall always obey him.  But when will$1$ you come 
230:030,17[K  ]| again?"
230:030,18[A  ]| "Not for$4$ a long time, I am afraid."
230:030,19[K  ]| "As soon as you can, I hope.  I am only a little girl,"
230:030,20['  ]| said Pansy, 
230:030,20[K  ]| "but I shall always expect you."  
230:030,20['  ]| And the 
230:030,21['  ]| small figure stood in$4$ the high, dark doorway, watching
230:030,22['  ]| Isabel cross the clear, grey court and disappear
230:030,23['  ]| into the brightness beyond the big \7portone\, which$6#1$ gave 
230:030,24['  ]| a wider dazzle as it opened.
231:031,01['  ]| Isabel came back to$4$ Florence, but only after several
231:031,02['  ]| months; an interval sufficiently replete with incident.
231:031,03['  ]| It is not, however, during this interval that$3$ we are
231:031,04['  ]| closely concerned with her; our attention is engaged
231:031,05['  ]| again on$4$ a certain day in$4$ the late spring-time, shortly
231:031,06['  ]| after her return to$4$ Palazzo*Crescentini and a year
231:031,07['  ]| from the date of the incidents just narrated.  She was
231:031,08['  ]| alone on$4$ this occasion, in$4$ one of the smaller of the 
231:031,09['  ]| numerous rooms devoted by$4$ Mrs%*Touchett to$4$ social
231:031,10['  ]| uses, and there was that$6#2$ in$4$ her expression and attitude
231:031,11['  ]| which$6#1$ would have suggested that$3$ she was expecting 
231:031,12['  ]| a visitor.  The tall window was open, and though its
231:031,13['  ]| green shutters were partly drawn the bright air of the 
231:031,14['  ]| garden had come in$5$ through a broad interstice and 
231:031,15['  ]| filled the room with warmth and perfume.  Our
231:031,16['  ]| young woman stood near it for$4$ some time, her hands
231:031,17['  ]| clasped behind her; she gazed abroad with vagueness
231:031,18['  ]| of unrest.  Too troubled for$4$ attention she moved
231:031,19['  ]| in$4$ a vain circle.  Yet it could not be in$4$ her thought to$9$ 
231:031,20['  ]| catch a glimpse of her visitor before he should pass into
231:031,21['  ]| the house, since the entrance to$4$ the palace was not
231:031,22['  ]| through the garden, in$4$ which$6#1$ stillness and privacy always 
231:031,23['  ]| reigned.  She wished rather to$9$ forestall his arrival
231:031,24['  ]| by$4$ a process of conjecture, and to$9$ judge by$4$ the 
231:031,25['  ]| expression of her face this attempt gave her plenty to$9$ 
231:031,26['  ]| do.  Grave she found herself, and positively more
231:031,27['  ]| weighted, as by$4$ the experience of the lapse of the year
231:032,01['  ]| she had spent in$4$ seeing the world.  She had ranged,
231:032,02['  ]| she would have said, through space and surveyed much 
231:032,03['  ]| of mankind, and was therefore now, in$4$ her own eyes,
231:032,04['  ]| a very different person from the frivolous young woman
231:032,05['  ]| from Albany who$6#1$ had begun to$9$ take the measure
231:032,06['  ]| of Europe on$4$ the lawn at Gardencourt a couple of 
231:032,07['  ]| years before.  She flattered herself she had harvested
231:032,08['  ]| wisdom and learned a great deal more of life than this
231:032,09['  ]| light-minded creature had even suspected.  If her
231:032,10['  ]| thoughts just now had inclined themselves to$4$ retrospect,
231:032,11['  ]| instead of fluttering their wings nervously about the 
231:032,12['  ]| present, they would have evoked a multitude of interesting
231:032,13['  ]| pictures.  These pictures would have been both
231:032,14['  ]| landscapes and figure-pieces; the latter, however,
231:032,15['  ]| would have been the more numerous.  With several
231:032,16['  ]| of the images that$6#1$ might have been projected on$4$ such 
231:032,17['  ]| a field we are already acquainted.  There would be 
231:032,18['  ]| for$4$ instance the conciliatory Lily, our heroine's sister
231:032,19['  ]| and Edmund Ludlow's wife, who$6#1$ had come out from 
231:032,20['  ]| New York to$9$ spend five months with her relative.
231:032,21['  ]| She had left her husband behind her, but had brought 
231:032,22['  ]| her children, to$4$ whom Isabel now played with equal
231:032,23['  ]| munificence and tenderness the part of maiden-aunt.
231:032,24['  ]| Mr%*Ludlow, toward the last, had been able to$9$ snatch
231:032,25['  ]| a few weeks from his forensic triumphs and, crossing
231:032,26['  ]| the ocean with extreme rapidity, had spent a month
231:032,27['  ]| with the two ladies in$4$ Paris before taking his wife
231:032,28['  ]| home.  The little Ludlows had not yet, even from the
231:032,29['  ]| American point of view, reached the proper tourist-age;
231:032,30['  ]| so$3$ that$3$ while her sister was with her Isabel had
231:032,31['  ]| confined her movements to$4$ a narrow circle.  Lily and 
231:032,32['  ]| the babies had joined her in$4$ Switzerland in$4$ the month
231:033,01['  ]| of July, and they had spent a summer of fine weather
231:033,02['  ]| in$4$ an Alpine valley where the flowers were thick in$4$ the 
231:033,03['  ]| meadows and the shade of great chestnuts made a 
231:033,04['  ]| resting-place for$4$ such upward wanderings as might
231:033,05['  ]| be undertaken by$4$ ladies and children on$4$ warm afternoons.
231:033,06['  ]| They had afterwards reached the French 
231:033,07['  ]| capital, which$6#1$ was worshipped, and with costly ceremonies, 
231:033,08['  ]| by$4$ Lily, but thought of as noisily vacant by$4$ 
231:033,09['  ]| Isabel, who$6#1$ in$4$ these days made use of her memory of 
231:033,10['  ]| Rome as she might have done, in$4$ a hot and crowded 
231:033,11['  ]| room, of a phial of something pungent hidden in$4$ her 
231:033,12['  ]| handkerchief.
231:033,13['  ]| Mrs*%Ludlow sacrificed, as I say, to$4$ Paris, yet had
231:033,14['  ]| doubts and wonderments not allayed at that$6#2$ altar;
231:033,15['  ]| and after her husband had joined her found further
231:033,16['  ]| chagrin in$4$ his failure to$9$ throw himself into these 
231:033,17['  ]| speculations.  They all had Isabel for$4$ subject; but 
231:033,18['  ]| Edmund*Ludlow, as he had always done before, declined
231:033,19['  ]| to$9$ be surprised, or distressed, or mystified, or
231:033,20['  ]| elated, at anything his sister-in-law might have done
231:033,21['  ]| or have failed to$9$ do.  Mrs*%Ludlow's mental motions
231:033,22['  ]| were sufficiently various.  At one moment she thought 
231:033,23@v   | it would be so$5#1$ natural for$4$ that$6#2$ young woman to$9$ come
231:033,24@v   | home and take a house in$4$ New York ~~ the Rossiters'
231:033,25@v   | for$4$ instance, which$6#1$ had an elegant conservatory and 
231:033,26@v   | was just round the corner from her own; 
231:033,26['  ]| at another 
231:033,27['  ]| she could not conceal her surprise 
231:033,27@v   | at the girl's not
231:033,28@v   | marrying some member of one of the great aristocracies.
231:033,29['  ]| On$4$ the whole, as I have said, she had fallen from 
231:033,30['  ]| high communion with the probabilities.  She had
231:033,31['  ]| taken more satisfaction in$4$ Isabel's accession of fortune
231:033,32['  ]| than if the money had been left to$4$ herself; it had 
231:034,01['  ]| seemed to$4$ her to$9$ offer just the proper setting for$4$ her
231:034,02['  ]| sister's slightly meagre, but scarce the less eminent
231:034,03['  ]| figure.  Isabel had developed less, however, than Lily
231:034,04['  ]| had thought likely ~~ development, to$4$ Lily's understanding, 
231:034,05['  ]| being somehow mysteriously connected 
231:034,06['  ]| with morning-calls and evening-parties.  Intellectually,
231:034,07['  ]| doubtless, she had made immense strides; but 
231:034,08['  ]| she appeared to$9$ have achieved few of those social
231:034,09['  ]| conquests of which$6#1$ Mrs%*Ludlow hed expected to$9$ admire 
231:034,10['  ]| the trophies.  Lily's conception of such achievements
231:034,11['  ]| was extremely vague; but this was exactly 
231:034,12['  ]| what she had expected of Isabel ~~ to$9$ give it form
231:034,13['  ]| and body.  
231:034,13@v   | Isabel could have done as well as she had
231:034,14@v   | done in$4$ New York; 
231:034,14['  ]| and Mrs%*Ludlow appealed to$4$ 
231:034,15['  ]| her husband to$9$ know 
231:034,15@v   | whether there was any privilege 
231:034,16@v   | she enjoyed in$4$ Europe which$6#1$ the society of that$6#2$ city 
231:034,17@v   | might not offer her.  
231:034,17['  ]| We know ourselves that$3$ Isabel
231:034,18['  ]| had made conquests ~~ whether inferior or not to$4$ 
231:034,19['  ]| those she might have effected in$4$ her native land it 
231:034,20['  ]| would be a delicate matter to$9$ decide; and it is not
231:034,21['  ]| altogether with a feeling of complacency that$3$ I again
231:034,22['  ]| mention that$3$ she had not rendered these honourable
231:034,23['  ]| victories public.  She had not told her sister the history 
231:034,24['  ]| of Lord*Warburton, nor had she given her a hint 
231:034,25['  ]| of Mr%*Osmond's state of mind; and she had had no$2$
231:034,26['  ]| better reason for$4$ her silence than that$3$ she did not
231:034,27['  ]| wish to$9$ speak.  It was more romantic to$9$ say nothing,
231:034,28['  ]| and, drinking deep, in$4$ secret, of romance, she was as
231:034,29['  ]| little disposed to$9$ ask poor Lily's advice as she would
231:034,30['  ]| have been to$9$ close that$6#2$ rare volume forever.  But Lily 
231:034,31['  ]| knew nothing of these discriminations, and could only 
231:034,32['  ]| pronounce her sister's career 
231:034,32@v   | a strange anti-climax ~~ 
231:035,01['  ]| an impression confirmed by$4$ the fact that$3$ Isabel's
231:035,02['  ]| silence about Mr%*Osmond, for$4$ instance, was in$4$ direct 
231:035,03['  ]| proportion to$4$ the frequency with which$6#1$ he occupied
231:035,04['  ]| her thoughts.  As this happened very often it sometimes
231:035,05['  ]| appeared to$4$ Mrs%*Ludlow that$3$ she had lost her 
231:035,06['  ]| courage.  So$5#1$ uncanny a result of so$5#1$ exhilarating an 
231:035,07['  ]| incident as inheriting a fortune was of course perplexing
231:035,08['  ]| to$4$ the cheerful Lily; it added to$4$ her general
231:035,09['  ]| sense that$3$ 
231:035,09@v   | Isabel was not at all like$4$ other people.
231:035,10['  ]| Our young lady's courage, however, might have
231:035,11['  ]| been taken as reaching its height after her relations
231:035,12['  ]| had gone home.  She could imagine braver things than 
231:035,13['  ]| spending the winter in$4$ Paris ~~ Paris had sides by$4$ 
231:035,14['  ]| which$6#1$ it so$5#2$ resembled New York, Paris was like$4$
231:035,15['  ]| smart, neat prose ~~ and her close correspondence 
231:035,16['  ]| with Madame*Merle did much to$9$ stimulate such 
231:035,17['  ]| flights.  She had never had a keener sense of freedom,
231:035,18['  ]| of the absolute boldness and wantonness of liberty,
231:035,19['  ]| than when she turned away from the platform at the 
231:035,20['  ]| Euston Station on$4$ one of the last days of November,
231:035,21['  ]| after the departure of the train that$6#1$ was to$9$ convey
231:035,22['  ]| poor Lily, her husband and her children to$4$ their ship
231:035,23['  ]| at Liverpool.  
231:035,23@a   | It had been good for$4$ her to$9$ regale; 
231:035,23['  ]| she
231:035,24['  ]| was very conscious of that$6#2$; she was very observant,
231:035,25['  ]| as we know, of what was good for$4$ her, and her effort
231:035,26['  ]| was constantly to$9$ find something that$6#2$ was good 
231:035,27['  ]| enough.  To$9$ profit by$4$ the present advantage till the 
231:035,28['  ]| latest moment she had made the journey from Paris
231:035,29['  ]| with the unenvied travellers.  She would have accompanied
231:035,30['  ]| them to$4$ Liverpool as well, only Edmund*Ludlow
231:035,31['  ]| had asked her, as a favour, 
231:035,31@w   | not to$9$ do so$5#2$; it
231:035,32@w   | made Lily so$5#1$ fidgety and she asked such impossible
231:036,01@w   | questions.  
231:036,01['  ]| Isabel watched the train move away; she 
231:036,02['  ]| kissed her hand to$4$ the elder of her small nephews, a 
231:036,03['  ]| demonstrative child who$6#1$ leaned dangerously far out
231:036,04['  ]| of the window of the carriage and made separation
231:036,05['  ]| an occasion of violent hilarity, and then she walked
231:036,06['  ]| back into the foggy London street.  The world lay before 
231:036,07['  ]| her ~~ she could do whatever she chose.  There
231:036,08['  ]| was a deep thrill in$4$ it all, but for$4$ the present her choice
231:036,09['  ]| was tolerably discreet; she chose simply to$9$ walk back 
231:036,10['  ]| from Euston*Square to$4$ her hotel.  The early dusk of 
231:036,11['  ]| a November afternoon had already closed in$5$; the 
231:036,12['  ]| street-lamps, in$4$ the thick, brown air, looked weak
231:036,13['  ]| and red; our heroine was unattended and Euston*Square 
231:036,14['  ]| was a long way from Piccadilly.  But Isabel
231:036,15['  ]| performed the journey with a positive enjoyment of 
231:036,16['  ]| its dangers and lost her way almost on$4$ purpose, in$4$ 
231:036,17['  ]| order to$9$ get more sensations, so$3$ that$3$ she was disappointed 
231:036,18['  ]| when an obliging policeman easily set her 
231:036,19['  ]| right again.  She was so$5#1$ fond of the spectacle of human 
231:036,20['  ]| life that$3$ she enjoyed even the aspect of gathering
231:036,21['  ]| dusk in$4$ the London streets ~~ the moving crowds, the 
231:036,22['  ]| hurrying cabs, the lighted shops, the flaring stalls, the 
231:036,23['  ]| dark, shining dampness of everything.  That$6#2$ evening,
231:036,24['  ]| at her hotel, she wrote to$4$ Madame*Merle that$3$ 
231:036,24@a   | she 
231:036,25@a   | should start in$4$ a day or two for$4$ Rome.  
231:036,25['  ]| She made her
231:036,26['  ]| way down to$4$ Rome without touching at Florence ~~
231:036,27['  ]| having gone first to$4$ Venice and then proceeded southward
231:036,28['  ]| by$4$ Ancona.  She accomplished this journey 
231:036,29['  ]| without other assistance than that$6#2$ of her servant, for$3$
231:036,30['  ]| her natural protectors were not now on$4$ the ground.
231:036,31['  ]| Ralph*Touchett was spending the winter at Corfu,
231:036,32['  ]| and Miss*Stackpole, in$4$ the September previous, had 
231:037,01['  ]| been recalled to$4$ America by$4$ a telegram from the 
231:037,02['  ]| \Interviewer\.  This journal offered its brilliant correspondent
231:037,03['  ]| a fresher field for$4$ her genius than the mouldering 
231:037,04['  ]| cities of Europe, and Henrietta was cheered 
231:037,05['  ]| on$4$ her way by$4$ a promise from Mr%*Bantling that$3$ he
231:037,06['  ]| would soon come over to$9$ see her.  Isabel wrote to$4$ Mrs*Touchett
231:037,07['  ]| to$9$ apologise for$4$ not presenting herself just
231:037,08['  ]| yet in$4$ Florence, and her aunt replied characteristically
231:037,09['  ]| enough.  
231:037,09@g   | Apologies, 
231:037,09['  ]| Mrs*Touchett intimated, 
231:037,09@g   | were 
231:037,10@g   | of no$2$ more use to$4$ her than bubbles, and she herself
231:037,11@g   | never dealt in$4$ such articles.  One either did the thing
231:037,12@g   | or one did not, and what one "would" have done belonged
231:037,13@g   | to$4$ the sphere of the irrelevant, like$4$ the idea of 
231:037,14@g   | a future life or of the origin of things.  
231:037,14['  ]| Her letter was
231:037,15['  ]| frank, but (a rare case with Mrs*Touchett) not so$5#1$ 
231:037,16['  ]| frank as it pretended.  She easily forgave her niece
231:037,17['  ]| for$4$ not stopping at Florence, because she took it for$4$ 
231:037,18['  ]| a sign that$3$ Gilbert*Osmond was less in$4$ question there
231:037,19['  ]| than formerly.  She watched of course to$9$ see if he
231:037,20['  ]| would now find a pretext for$4$ going to$4$ Rome, and 
231:037,21['  ]| derived some comfort from learning that$3$ he had not 
231:037,22['  ]| been guilty of an absence.
231:037,23['  ]| Isabel, on$4$ her side, had not been a fortnight in$4$ 
231:037,24['  ]| Rome before she proposed to$4$ Madame*Merle that$3$ 
231:037,25@a   | they should make a little pilgrimage to$4$ the East.  
231:037,25['  ]| Madame*Merle
231:037,26['  ]| remarked that$3$ 
231:037,26@h   | her friend was restless,
231:037,27['  ]| but she added that$3$ 
231:037,27@h   | she herself had always been consumed
231:037,28@h   | with the desire to$9$ visit Athens and Constantinople.
231:037,29['  ]| The two ladies accordingly embarked on$4$ this
231:037,30['  ]| expedition, and spent three months in$4$ Greece, in$4$ 
231:037,31['  ]| Turkey, in$4$ Egypt.  Isabel found much to$9$ interest her
231:037,32['  ]| in$4$ these countries, though Madame*Merle continued 
231:038,01['  ]| to$9$ remark that$3$ 
231:038,01@h   | even among the most classic sites, the 
231:038,02@h   | scenes most calculated to$9$ suggest repose and reflexion,
231:038,03@h   | a certain incoherence prevailed in$4$ her.  
231:038,03['  ]| Isabel
231:038,04['  ]| travelled rapidly and recklessly; she was like$4$ a thirsty 
231:038,05['  ]| person draining cup after cup.  Madame*Merle meanwhile, 
231:038,06['  ]| as lady-in-waiting to$4$ a princess circulating \7incognita\,
231:038,07['  ]| panted a little in$4$ her rear.  It was on$4$ Isabel's
231:038,08['  ]| invitation she had come, and she imparted all due
231:038,09['  ]| dignity to$4$ the girl's uncountenanced state.  She played
231:038,10['  ]| her part with the tact that$6#1$ might have been expected 
231:038,11['  ]| of her, effacing herself and accepting the position of 
231:038,12['  ]| a companion whose expenses were profusely paid.
231:038,13['  ]| The situation, however, had no$2$ hardships, and people 
231:038,14['  ]| who$6#1$ met this reserved though striking pair on$4$ 
231:038,15['  ]| their travels would not have been able to$9$ tell you 
231:038,16['  ]| which$6#1$ was patroness and which$6#1$ client.  To$9$ say that$3$ 
231:038,17['  ]| Madame*Merle improved on$4$ acquaintance states
231:038,18['  ]| meagrely the impression she made on$4$ her friend, who$6#1$ 
231:038,19['  ]| had found her from the first so$5#1$ ample and so$5#1$ easy.  At
231:038,20['  ]| the end of an intimacy of three months Isabel felt she 
231:038,21['  ]| knew her better; her character had revealed itself,
231:038,22['  ]| and the admirable woman had also at last redeemed
231:038,23['  ]| her promise of relating her history from her own point 
231:038,24['  ]| of view ~~ a consummation the more desirable as Isabel 
231:038,25['  ]| had already heard it related from the point of view 
231:038,26['  ]| of others.  This history was so$5#1$ sad a one (in$4$ so$5#1$ far as 
231:038,27['  ]| it concerned the late M%*Merle, 
231:038,27@h   | a positive adventurer,
231:038,28['  ]| she might say, 
231:038,28@h   | though originally so$5#1$ plausible, who$6#1$ had
231:038,29@h   | taken advantage, years before, of her youth and of an 
231:038,30@h   | inexperience in$4$ which$6#1$ doubtless those who$6#1$ knew her 
231:038,31@h   | only now would find it difficult to$9$ believe); 
231:038,31['  ]| it abounded
231:038,32['  ]| so$5#2$ in$4$ startling and lamentable incidents that$3$ her companion 
231:039,01['  ]| wondered 
231:039,01@a   | a person so$5#1$ \9e=prouve=e\ could have
231:039,02@a   | kept so$5#1$ much of her freshness, her interest in$4$ life.
231:039,03['  ]| Into this freshness of Madame*Merle's she obtained 
231:039,04['  ]| a considerable insight; she seemed to$9$ see it 
231:039,04@a   | as professional, 
231:039,05@a   | as slightly mechanical, carried about in$4$ its
231:039,06@a   | case like$4$ the fiddle of the virtuoso, or blanketed and 
231:039,07@a   | bridled like$4$ the "favourite" of the jockey.  She liked
231:039,08@a   | her as much as ever, but there was a corner of the 
231:039,09@a   | curtain that$6#1$ never was lifted; it was as if she had
231:039,10@a   | remained after all something of a public performer,
231:039,11@a   | condemned to$9$ emerge only in$4$ character and in$4$ costume.
231:039,12['  ]| She had once said that$3$ 
231:039,12@h   | she came from a distance,
231:039,13@h   | that$3$ she belonged to$4$ the "old, old" world, 
231:039,13['  ]| and 
231:039,14['  ]| Isabel never lost the impression that$3$ she was the product 
231:039,15['  ]| of a different moral or social clime from her own, 
231:039,16['  ]| that$3$ she had grown up$5$ under other stars.
231:039,17['  ]| She believed then that$3$ at bottom she had a different 
231:039,18['  ]| morality.  Of course the morality of civilised 
231:039,19['  ]| persons has always much in$4$ common; but our young
231:039,20['  ]| woman had a sense in$4$ her of values gone wrong or, 
231:039,21['  ]| as they said at the shops, marked down.  She considered,
231:039,22['  ]| with the presumption of youth, that$3$ a morality 
231:039,23['  ]| differing from her own must be inferior to$4$ it; 
231:039,24['  ]| and this conviction was an aid to$4$ detecting an occasional 
231:039,25['  ]| flash of cruelty, an occasional lapse from 
231:039,26['  ]| candour, in$4$ the conversation of a person who$6#1$ had
231:039,27['  ]| raised delicate kindness to$4$ an art and whose pride 
231:039,28['  ]| was too high for$4$ the narrow ways of deception.  Her 
231:039,29['  ]| conception of human motives might, in$4$ certain lights,
231:039,30['  ]| have been acquired at the court of some kingdom
231:039,31['  ]| in$4$ decadence, and there were several in$4$ her list of
231:039,32['  ]| which$6#1$ our heroine had not even heard.  She had not
231:040,01['  ]| heard of everything, that$6#2$ was very plain; and there
231:040,02['  ]| were evidently things in$4$ the world of which$6#1$ it was 
231:040,03['  ]| not advantageous to$9$ hear.  She had once or twice
231:040,04['  ]| had a positive scare; since it so$5#2$ affected her to$9$ have 
231:040,05['  ]| to$9$ exclaim, of her friend, 
231:040,05[A  ]| "Heaven forgive her, she 
231:040,06[A  ]| does not understand me!"  
231:040,06['  ]| Absurd as it may seem 
231:040,07['  ]| this discovery operated as a shock, left her with a 
231:040,08['  ]| vague dismay in$4$ which$6#1$ there was even an element
231:040,09['  ]| of foreboding.  The dismay of course subsided, in$4$ 
231:040,10['  ]| the light of some sudden proof of Madame*Merle's
231:040,11['  ]| remarkable intelligence; but it stood for$4$ a high-water-mark
231:040,12['  ]| in$4$ the ebb and flow of confidence.
231:040,13['  ]| Madame*Merle had once declared her belief that$3$ 
231:040,14@h   | when a friendship ceases to$9$ grow it immediately begins
231:040,15@h   | to$9$ decline ~~ there being no$2$ point of equilibrium
231:040,16@h   | between liking more and liking less.  
231:040,16['  ]| A stationary 
231:040,17['  ]| affection, in$4$ other words, was impossible ~~ it must 
231:040,18['  ]| move one way or the other.  However that$6#2$ might be,
231:040,19['  ]| the girl had in$4$ these days a thousand uses for$4$ her 
231:040,20['  ]| sense of the romantic, which$6#1$ was more active than 
231:040,21['  ]| it had ever been.  I do not allude to$4$ the impulse it
231:040,22['  ]| received as she gazed at the Pyramids in$4$ the course 
231:040,23['  ]| of an excursion from Cairo, or as she stood among 
231:040,24['  ]| the broken columns of the Acropolis and fixed her
231:040,25['  ]| eyes upon$4$ the point designated to$4$ her as the Strait*of*Salamis; 
231:040,26['  ]| deep and memorable as these emotions 
231:040,27['  ]| had remained.  She came back by$4$ the last of March
231:040,28['  ]| from Egypt and Greece and made another stay in$4$ 
231:040,29['  ]| Rome.  A few days after her arrival Gilbert*Osmond
231:040,30['  ]| descended from Florence and remained three weeks,
231:040,31['  ]| during which$6#1$ the fact of her being with his old friend
231:040,32['  ]| Madame*Merle, in$4$ whose house she had gone to$9$ 
231:041,01['  ]| lodge, made it virtually inevitable that$3$ he should
231:041,02['  ]| see her every day.  When the last of April came she
231:041,03['  ]| wrote to$4$ Mrs%*Touchett that$3$ 
231:041,03@a   | she should now rejoice
231:041,04@a   | to$9$ accept an invitation given long before, 
231:041,04['  ]| and went
231:041,05['  ]| to$9$ pay a visit at Palazzo*Crescentini, Madame*Merle
231:041,06['  ]| on$4$ this occasion remaining in$4$ Rome.  She found her 
231:041,07['  ]| aunt alone; her cousin was still at Corfu.  Ralph,
231:041,08['  ]| however, was expected in$4$ Florence from day to$4$ day,
231:041,09['  ]| and Isabel, who$6#1$ had not seen him for$4$ upwards of 
231:041,10['  ]| a year, was prepared to$9$ give him the most affectionate 
231:041,11['  ]| welcome.
232:042,01['  ]| It was not of him, nevertheless, that$3$ she was thinking
232:042,02['  ]| while she stood at the window near which$6#1$ we
232:042,03['  ]| found her a while ago, and it was not of any of the 
232:042,04['  ]| matters I have rapidly sketched.  She was not turned
232:042,05['  ]| to$4$ the past, but to$4$ the immediate, impending hour.
232:042,06['  ]| She had reason to$9$ expect a scene, and she was not
232:042,07['  ]| fond of scenes.  She was not asking herself what 
232:042,08['  ]| she should say to$4$ her visitor; this question had 
232:042,09['  ]| already been answered.  What he would say to$4$ her
232:042,10['  ]| ~~ that$6#2$ was the interesting issue.  It could be nothing
232:042,11['  ]| in$4$ the least soothing ~~ she had warrant for$4$ this,
232:042,12['  ]| and the conviction doubtless showed in$4$ the cloud 
232:042,13['  ]| on$4$ her brow.  For$4$ the rest, however, all clearness
232:042,14['  ]| reigned in$4$ her; she had put away her mourning
232:042,15['  ]| and she walked in$4$ no$2$ small shimmering splendour.
232:042,16['  ]| She only felt older ~~ ever so$5#1$ much, and as if she
232:042,17['  ]| were "worth more" for$4$ it, like$4$ some curious piece
232:042,18['  ]| in$4$ an antiquary's collection.  She was not at any
232:042,19['  ]| rate left indefinitely to$4$ her apprehensions, for$3$ a 
232:042,20['  ]| servant at last stood before her with a card on$4$ his
232:042,21['  ]| tray.  
232:042,21[A  ]| "Let the gentleman come in$5$," 
232:042,21['  ]| she said, and
232:042,22['  ]| continued to$9$ gaze out of the window after the footman
232:042,23['  ]| had retired.  It was only when she had heard 
232:042,24['  ]| the door close behind the person who$6#1$ presently
232:042,25['  ]| entered that$3$ she looked round.
232:042,26['  ]| Caspar*Goodwood stood there ~~ stood and received
232:042,27['  ]| a moment, from head to$4$ foot, the bright, dry
232:043,01['  ]| gaze with which$6#1$ she rather withheld than offered a 
232:043,02['  ]| greeting.  Whether his sense of maturity had kept 
232:043,03['  ]| pace with Isabel's we shall perhaps presently ascertain;
232:043,04['  ]| let me say meanwhile that$3$ to$4$ her critical
232:043,05['  ]| glance he showed nothing of the injury of time.
232:043,06['  ]| Straight, strong and hard, there was nothing in$4$ his 
232:043,07['  ]| appearance that$6#1$ spoke positively either of youth of
232:043,08['  ]| of age; if he had neither innocence nor weakness,
232:043,09['  ]| so$3$ he had no$2$ practical philosophy.  His jaw showed
232:043,10['  ]| the same voluntary cast as in$4$ earlier days; but a 
232:043,11['  ]| crisis like$4$ the present had in$4$ it of course something
232:043,12['  ]| grim.  He had the air of a man who$6#1$ had travelled
232:043,13['  ]| hard; he said nothing at first, as if he had been out
232:043,14['  ]| of breath.  This gave Isabel time to$9$ make a reflexion:
232:043,15@a   | "Poor fellow, what great things he is capable
232:043,16@a   | of, and what a pity he should waste so$5#1$ dreadfully
232:043,17@a   | his splendid force!  What a pity too that$3$ one can not
232:043,18@a   | satisfy everybody!"  
232:043,18['  ]| It gave her time to$9$ do more ~~
232:043,19['  ]| to$9$ say at the end of a minute: 
232:043,19[A  ]| "I can not tell you how
232:043,20[A  ]| I hoped you would not come!"
232:043,21[E  ]| "I have no$2$ doubt of that$6#2$."  
232:043,21['  ]| And he looked about 
232:043,22['  ]| him for$4$ a seat.  Not only had he come, but he meant
232:043,23['  ]| to$9$ settle.
232:043,24[A  ]| "You must be very tired," 
232:043,24['  ]| said Isabel, seating 
232:043,25['  ]| herself, and generously, as she thought, to$9$ give him
232:043,26['  ]| his opportunity.
232:043,27[E  ]| "No$7$, I am not at all tired.  Did you ever know me
232:043,28[E  ]| to$9$ be tired?"
232:043,29[A  ]| "Never; I wish I had!  When did you arrive?"
232:043,30[E  ]| "Last night, very late; in$4$ a kind of snail-train they
232:043,31[E  ]| call the express.  These Italian trains go at about
232:043,32[E  ]| the rate of an American funeral."
232:044,01[A  ]| "That$6#2$ is in$4$ keeping ~~ you must have felt as if
232:044,02[A  ]| you were coming to$9$ bury me!"  
232:044,02['  ]| And she forced a 
232:044,03['  ]| smile of encouragement to$4$ an easy view of their
232:044,04['  ]| situation.  She had reasoned the matter well out,
232:044,05['  ]| making it perfectly clear that$3$ she broke no$2$ faith and
232:044,06['  ]| falsified no$2$ contract; but for$4$ all this she was afraid
232:044,07['  ]| of her visitor.  She was ashamed of her fear; but she 
232:044,08['  ]| was devoutly thankful there was nothing else to$9$ be 
232:044,09['  ]| ashamed of.  He looked at her with his stiff insistence,
232:044,10['  ]| an insistence in$4$ which$6#1$ there was such a want of tact;
232:044,11['  ]| especially when the dull dark beam in$4$ his eye rested
232:044,12['  ]| on$4$ her as a physical weight. 
232:044,13[E  ]| "No$7$, I did not feel that$6#2$; I could not think of you 
232:044,14[E  ]| as dead.  I wish I could!" 
232:044,14['  ]| he candidly declared.
232:044,15[A  ]| "I thank you immensely."
232:044,16[E  ]| "I would rather think of you as dead than as married
232:044,17[E  ]| to$4$ another man."
232:044,18[A  ]| "That$6#2$ is very selfish of you!" 
232:044,18['  ]| she returned with 
232:044,19['  ]| the ardour of a real conviction.  
232:044,19[A  ]| "If you are not happy
232:044,20[A  ]| yourself others have yet a right to$9$ be."
232:044,21[E  ]| "Very likely it is selfish; but I do not in$4$ the least 
232:044,22[E  ]| mind your saying so$5#2$.  I do not mind anything you 
232:044,23[E  ]| can say now ~~ I do not feel it.  The cruellest things
232:044,24[E  ]| you could think of would be mere pin-pricks.  After
232:044,25[E  ]| what you have done I shall never feel anything ~~ I
232:044,26[E  ]| mean anything but that$6#2$.  That$6#2$ I shall feel all my life."
232:044,27['  ]| Mr%*Goodwood made these detached assertions
232:044,28['  ]| with dry deliberateness, in$4$ his hard, slow American
232:044,29['  ]| tone, which$6#1$ flung no$2$ atmospheric colour over propositions 
232:044,30['  ]| intrinsically crude.  The tone made Isabel
232:044,31['  ]| angry rather than touched her; but her anger perhaps
232:044,32['  ]| was fortunate, inasmuch as it gave her a further
232:045,01['  ]| reason for$4$ controlling herself.  It was under the pressure
232:045,02['  ]| of this control that$3$ she became, after a little,
232:045,03['  ]| irrelevant.  
232:045,03[A  ]| "When did you leave New York?"
232:045,04['  ]| He threw up$5$ his head as if calculating.  
232:045,04[E  ]| "Seventeen 
232:045,05[E  ]| days ago."
232:045,06[A  ]| "You must have travelled fast in$4$ spite of your 
232:045,07[A  ]| slow trains."
232:045,08[E  ]| "I came as fast as I could.  I would have come five
232:045,09[E  ]| days ago if I had been able."
232:045,10[A  ]| "It would not have made any difference, Mr%*Goodwood,"
232:045,11['  ]| she coldly smiled.
232:045,12[E  ]| "Not to$4$ you ~~ no$7$.  But to$4$ me."
232:045,13[A  ]| "You gain nothing that$6#1$ I see."
232:045,14[E  ]| "That$6#2$ is for$4$ me to$9$ judge!"
232:045,15[A  ]| "Of course.  To$4$ me it seems that$3$ you only torment 
232:045,16[A  ]| yourself."  
232:045,16['  ]| And then, to$9$ change the subject,
232:045,17['  ]| she asked him 
232:045,17@a   | if he had seen Henrietta*Stackpole.
232:045,18['  ]| He looked as if he had not come from Boston to$4$ 
232:045,19['  ]| Florence to$9$ talk of Henrietta*Stackpole; but he answered,
232:045,20['  ]| distinctly enough, that$3$ 
232:045,20@e   | this young lady had 
232:045,21@e   | been with him just before he left America.  
232:045,21[A  ]| "She
232:045,22[A  ]| came to$9$ see you?"  
232:045,22['  ]| Isabel then demanded.
232:045,23[E  ]| "Yes, she was in$4$ Boston, and she called at my 
232:045,24[E  ]| office.  It was the day I had got your letter."
232:045,25[A  ]| "Did you tell her?" 
232:045,25['  ]| Isabel asked with a certain
232:045,26['  ]| anxiety.
232:045,27[E  ]| "Oh no$7$," 
232:045,27['  ]| said Caspar*Goodwood simply; 
232:045,27[E  ]| "I 
232:045,28[E  ]| did not want to$9$ do that$6#2$.  She will$1$ hear it quick enough;
232:045,29[E  ]| she hears everything."
232:045,30[A  ]| "I shall write to$4$ her, and then she will$1$ write to$4$ me
232:045,31[A  ]| and scold me," 
232:045,31['  ]| Isabel declared, trying to$9$ smile 
232:045,32['  ]| again.
232:046,01['  ]| Caspar, however, remained sternly grave.  
232:046,01[E  ]| "I guess 
232:046,02[E  ]| she will$1$ come right out," 
232:046,02['  ]| he said.
232:046,03[A  ]| "On$4$ purpose to$9$ scold me?"
232:046,04[E  ]| "I do not know.  She seemed to$9$ think she had not
232:046,05[E  ]| seen Europe thoroughly."
232:046,06[A  ]| "I am glad you tell me that$6#2$," 
232:046,06['  ]| Isabel said. 
232:046,06[A  ]| "I must 
232:046,07[A  ]| prepare for$4$ her."
232:046,08['  ]| Mr%*Goodwood fixed his eyes for$4$ a moment on$4$ the 
232:046,09['  ]| floor; then at last, raising them, 
232:046,09[E  ]| "Does she know
232:046,10[E  ]| Mr%*Osmond?" 
232:046,10['  ]| he enquired.
232:046,11[A  ]| "A little.  And she does not like$1$ him.  But of course
232:046,12[A  ]| I do not marry to$9$ please Henrietta," 
232:046,12['  ]| she added.  It
232:046,13['  ]| would have been better for$4$ poor Caspar if she had
232:046,14['  ]| tried a little more to$9$ gratify Miss*Stackpole; but he
232:046,15['  ]| did not say so$5#2$; he only asked, presently, 
232:046,15@e   | when her 
232:046,16@e   | marriage would take place.  
232:046,15['  ]| To$4$ which$6#1$ she made 
232:046,17['  ]| answer that$3$ 
232:046,17@a   | she did not know yet.  
232:046,17[A  ]| "I can only say 
232:046,18[A  ]| it will$1$ be soon.  I have told no*one but yourself and 
232:046,19[A  ]| one other person ~~ an old friend of Mr%*Osmond's."
232:046,20[E  ]| "Is it a marriage your friends will$1$ not like$1$?" 
232:046,20['  ]| he
232:046,21['  ]| demanded.
232:046,22[A  ]| "I really have not an idea.  As I say, I do not marry
232:046,23[A  ]| for$4$ my friends."
232:046,24['  ]| He went on$5$, making no$2$ exclamation, no$2$ comment,
232:046,25['  ]| only asking questions, doing it quite without delicacy.
232:046,26[E  ]| "Who$6#2$ and what then is Mr%*Gilbert*Osmond?"
232:046,27[A  ]| "Who$6#2$ and what?  Nobody and nothing but a 
232:046,28[A  ]| very good and very honourable man.  He is not in$4$ 
232:046,29[A  ]| business," 
232:046,29['  ]| said Isabel.  
232:046,29[A  ]| "He is not rich; he is not
232:046,30[A  ]| known for$4$ anything in$4$ particular."
232:046,31['  ]| She disliked Mr%*Goodwood's questions, but she 
232:046,32['  ]| said to$4$ herself that$3$ 
232:046,32@a   | she owed it to$4$ him to$9$ satisfy him
232:047,01@a   | as far as possible.  
232:047,01['  ]| The satisfaction poor Caspar exhibited
232:047,02['  ]| was, however, small; he sat very upright,
232:047,03['  ]| gazing at her.  
232:047,03[E  ]| "Where does he come from?  Where
232:047,04[E  ]| does he belong?"
232:047,05['  ]| She had never been so$5#1$ little pleased with the way
232:047,06['  ]| he said "belawng". 
232:047,06[A  ]| "He comes from nowhere.  He 
232:047,07[A  ]| has spent most of his life in$4$ Italy."
232:047,08[E  ]| "You said in$4$ your letter he was American.  Has not
232:047,09[E  ]| he a native place?"
232:047,10[A  ]| "Yes, but he has forgotten it.  He left it as a small
232:047,11[A  ]| boy".
232:047,12[E  ]| "Has he never gone back?"
232:047,13[A  ]| "Why should he go back?" 
232:047,13['  ]| Isabel asked, flushing
232:047,14['  ]| all defensively.  
232:047,14[A  ]| "He has no$2$ profession."
232:047,15[E  ]| "He might have gone back for$4$ his pleasure. Does not
232:047,16[E  ]| he like$1$ the United States?"
232:047,17[A  ]| "He does not know them.  Then he is very quiet
232:047,18[A  ]| and very simple ~~ he contents himself with Italy."
232:047,19[E  ]| "With Italy and with you," 
232:047,19['  ]| said Mr%*Goodwood
232:047,20['  ]| with gloomy plainness and no$2$ appearance of trying 
232:047,21['  ]| to$9$ make an epigram.  
232:047,21[E  ]| "What has he ever done?" 
232:047,21['  ]| he
232:047,22['  ]| added abruptly.
232:047,23[A  ]| "That$3$ I should marry him? Nothing at all," 
232:047,23['  ]| Isabel
232:047,24['  ]| replied while her patience helped itself by$4$ turning a 
232:047,25['  ]| little to$4$ hardness.  
232:047,25[A  ]| "If he had done great things would
232:047,26[A  ]| you forgive me any better?  Give me up$5$, Mr%*Goodwood;
232:047,27[A  ]| I am marrying a perfect nonentity.  Do not try 
232:047,28[A  ]| to$9$ take an interest in$4$ him.  You can not."
232:047,29[E  ]| "I can not appreciate him; that$6#2$ is what you mean.
232:047,30[E  ]| And you do not mean in$4$ the least that$3$ he is a perfect 
232:047,31[E  ]| nonentity.  You think he is grand, you think he is
232:047,32[E  ]| great, though no*one else thinks so$5#2$."
232:048,01['  ]| Isabel's colour deepened; she felt this really acute
232:048,02['  ]| of her companion, and 
232:048,02@a   | it was certainly a proof of the 
232:048,03@a   | aid that$6#1$ passion might render perceptions she had
232:048,04@a   | never taken for$4$ fine.  
232:048,04[A  ]| "Why do you always come back
232:048,05[A  ]| to$4$ what others think?  I can not discuss Mr%*Osmond
232:048,06[A  ]| with you."
232:048,07[E  ]| "Of course not," 
232:048,07['  ]| said Caspar reasonably.  And he
232:048,08['  ]| sat there with his air of stiff helplessness, as if not only
232:048,09['  ]| this were true, but there were nothing else that$6#1$ they 
232:048,10['  ]| might discuss.
232:048,11[A  ]| "You see how little you gain," 
232:048,11['  ]| she accordingly
232:048,12['  ]| broke out ~~ 
232:048,12[A  ]| "how little comfort or satisfaction I can
232:048,13[A  ]| give you."
232:048,14[E  ]| "I did not expect you to$9$ give me much."
232:048,15[A  ]| "I do not understand then why you came."
232:048,16[E  ]| "I came because I wanted to$9$ see you once more ~~
232:048,17[E  ]| even just as you are."
232:048,18[A  ]| "I appreciate that$6#2$; but if you had waited a while,
232:048,19[A  ]| sooner or later we should have been sure to$9$ meet, and 
232:048,20[A  ]| our meeting would have been pleasanter for$4$ each of 
232:048,21[A  ]| us than this."
232:048,22[E  ]| "Waited till after you are married?  That$6#2$ is just 
232:048,23[E  ]| what I did not want to$9$ do.  You will$1$ be different
232:048,24[E  ]| then."
232:048,25[A  ]| "Not very.  I shall still be a great friend of yours.
232:048,26[A  ]| You will$1$ see."
232:048,27[E  ]| "That$6#2$ will$1$ make it all worse," 
232:048,27['  ]| said Mr%*Goodwood
232:048,28['  ]| grimly.
232:048,29[A  ]| "Ah, you are unaccommodating!  I can not promise
232:048,30[A  ]| to$9$ dislike you in$4$ order to$9$ help you to$9$ resign yourself."
232:048,31[A  ]| 
232:048,32[E  ]| "I should not care if you did!"
232:049,01['  ]| Isabel got up$5$ with a movement of repressed impatience 
232:049,02['  ]| and walked to$4$ the window, where she remained
232:049,03['  ]| a moment looking out.  When she turned round her 
232:049,04['  ]| visitor was still motionless in$4$ his place.  She came
232:049,05['  ]| toward him again and stopped, resting her hand on$4$
232:049,06['  ]| the back of the chair she had just quitted.  
232:049,06[A  ]| "Do you 
232:049,07[A  ]| mean you came simply to$9$ look at me?  That$6#2$ is better 
232:049,08[A  ]| for$4$ you perhaps than for$4$ me."
232:049,09[E  ]| "I wished to$9$ hear the sound of your voice," 
232:049,09['  ]| he
232:049,10['  ]| said.
232:049,11[A  ]| "You have heard it, and you see it says nothing very 
232:049,12[A  ]| sweet."
232:049,13[E  ]| "It gives me pleasure, all the same."  
232:049,13['  ]| And with this
232:049,14['  ]| he got up$5$.
232:049,15['  ]| She had felt pain and displeasure on$4$ receiving
232:049,16['  ]| early that$6#2$ day the news he was in$4$ Florence and by$4$ 
232:049,17['  ]| her leave would come within an hour to$9$ see her.  She
232:049,18['  ]| had been vexed and distressed, though she had sent 
232:049,19['  ]| back word by$4$ his messenger that$3$ 
232:049,19@a   | he might come when 
232:049,20@a   | he would.  
232:049,20['  ]| She had not been better pleased when she 
232:049,21['  ]| saw him; his being there at all was so$5#1$ full of heavy 
232:049,22['  ]| implications.  It implied things she could never assent
232:049,23['  ]| to$4$ ~~ rights, reproaches, remonstrance, rebuke,
232:049,24['  ]| the expectation of making her change her purpose.
232:049,25['  ]| These things, however, if implied, had not been expressed;
232:049,26['  ]| and now our young lady, strangely enough,
232:049,27['  ]| began to$9$ resent her visitor's remarkable self-control.
232:049,28['  ]| There was a dumb misery about him that$6#1$ irritated
232:049,29['  ]| her; there was a manly staying of his hand that$6#1$ made 
232:049,30['  ]| her heart beat faster.  She felt her agitation rising, and 
232:049,31['  ]| she said to$4$ herself that$3$ 
232:049,31@a   | she was angry in$4$ the way a 
232:049,32@a   | woman is angry when she has been in$4$ the wrong.  She
232:050,01@a   | was not in$4$ the wrong; she had fortunately not that$6#2$ 
232:050,02@a   | bitterness to$9$ swallow; but, all the same, she wished
232:050,03@a   | he would denounce her a little.  
232:050,03['  ]| She had wished his
232:050,04['  ]| visit would be short; it had no$2$ purpose, no$2$ propriety; 
232:050,05['  ]| yet now that$3$ he seemed to$9$ be turning away she felt a 
232:050,06['  ]| sudden horror of his leaving her without uttering a 
232:050,07['  ]| word that$6#1$ would give her an opportunity to$9$ defend
232:050,08['  ]| herself more than she had done in$4$ writing to$4$ him a 
232:050,09['  ]| month before, in$4$ a few carefully chosen words, to$9$ announce
232:050,10['  ]| her engagement.  If she were not in$4$ the wrong,
232:050,11['  ]| however, why should she desire to$9$ defend herself?  It 
232:050,12['  ]| was an excess of generosity on$4$ Isabel's part to$9$ desire 
232:050,13['  ]| that$3$ Mr%*Goodwood should be angry.  And if he
232:050,14['  ]| had not meanwhile held himself hard it might have 
232:050,15['  ]| made him so$5#2$ to$9$ hear the tone in$4$ which$6#1$ she suddenly 
232:050,16['  ]| exclaimed, as if she were accusing him of having accused 
232:050,17['  ]| her: 
232:050,17[A  ]| "I have not deceived you!  I was perfectly 
232:050,18[A  ]| free!"
232:050,19[E  ]| "Yes, I know that$6#2$," 
232:050,19['  ]| said Caspar.
232:050,20[A  ]| "I gave you full warning that$3$ I would do as I chose."
232:050,21[E  ]| "You said you would probably never marry, and
232:050,22[E  ]| you said it with such a manner that$3$ I pretty well believed 
232:050,23[E  ]| it."
232:050,24['  ]| She considered this an instant.  
232:050,24[A  ]| "No*one can be 
232:050,25[A  ]| more surprised than myself at my present intention."
232:050,26[A  ]| 
232:050,27[E  ]| "You told me that$3$ if I heard you were engaged
232:050,28[E  ]| I was not to$9$ believe it," 
232:050,28['  ]| Caspar went on$5$.  
232:050,28[E  ]| "I 
232:050,29[E  ]| heard it twenty days ago from yourself, but I remembered
232:050,30[E  ]| what you had said.  I thought there 
232:050,31[E  ]| might be some mistake, and that$6#2$ is partly why I 
232:050,32[E  ]| came."
232:051,01[A  ]| "If you wish me to$9$ repeat it by$4$ word of mouth,
232:051,02[A  ]| that$6#2$ is soon done.  There is no$2$ mistake whatever."
232:051,03[E  ]| "I saw that$6#2$ as soon as I came into the room."
232:051,04[A  ]| "What good would it do you that$3$ I should not
232:051,05[A  ]| marry?" 
232:051,05['  ]| she asked with a certain fierceness.
232:051,06[E  ]| "I should like$1$ it better than this."
232:051,07[A  ]| "You are very selfish, as I said before."
232:051,08[E  ]| "I know that$6#2$.  I am selfish as iron."
232:051,09[A  ]| "Even iron sometimes melts!  If you will$1$ be reasonable
232:051,10[A  ]| I will$1$ see you again."
232:051,11[E  ]| "Do not you call me reasonable now?"
232:051,12[A  ]| "I do not know what to$9$ say to$4$ you," 
232:051,12['  ]| she answered
232:051,13['  ]| with sudden humility.
232:051,14[E  ]| "I shall not trouble you for$4$ a long time," 
232:051,14['  ]| the young
232:051,15['  ]| man went on$5$.  He made a step towards the door, but
232:051,16['  ]| he stopped.  
232:051,16[E  ]| "Another reason why I came was that$3$ I 
232:051,17[E  ]| wanted to$9$ hear what you would say in$4$ explanation of 
232:051,18[E  ]| your having changed your mind."
232:051,19['  ]| Her humbleness as suddenly deserted her.  
232:051,19[A  ]| "In$4$
232:051,20[A  ]| explanation?  Do you think I am bound to$9$ explain?"
232:051,21['  ]| He gave her one of his long dumb looks.  
232:051,21[E  ]| "You
232:051,22[E  ]| were very positive.  I did believe it."
232:051,23[A  ]| "So$5#2$ did I.  Do you think I could explain if I 
232:051,24[A  ]| would?"
232:051,25[E  ]| "No$7$, I suppose not.  Well," 
232:051,25['  ]| he added, 
232:051,25[E  ]| "I have done
232:051,26[E  ]| what I wished.  I have seen you."
232:051,27[A  ]| "How little you make of these terrible journeys,"
232:051,28['  ]| she felt the poverty of her presently replying.
232:051,29[E  ]| "If you are afraid I am knocked up$5$ ~~ in$4$ any such 
232:051,30[E  ]| way as that$6#2$ ~~ you may be at your ease about it." 
232:051,30['  ]| He
232:051,31['  ]| turned away, this time in$4$ earnest, and no$2$ hand-shake,
232:051,32['  ]| no$2$ sign of parting, was exchanged between them.
232:052,01['  ]| At the door he stopped with his hand on$4$ the knob.
232:052,02[E  ]| "I shall leave Florence to-morrow," 
232:052,02['  ]| he said without
232:052,03['  ]| a quaver.
232:052,04[A  ]| "I am delighted to$9$ hear it!" 
232:052,04['  ]| she answered passionately.
232:052,05['  ]| Five minutes after he had gone out she 
232:052,06['  ]| burst into tears.
233:053,01['  ]| Her fit of weeping, however, was soon smothered,
233:053,02['  ]| and the signs of it had vanished when, an hour later,
233:053,03['  ]| she broke the news to$4$ her aunt.  I use this expression
233:053,04['  ]| because she had been sure Mrs%*Touchett would not
233:053,05['  ]| be pleased; Isabel had only waited to$9$ tell her till she
233:053,06['  ]| had seen Mr%*Goodwood.  She had an odd impression
233:053,07['  ]| that$3$ it would not be honourable to$9$ make the fact 
233:053,08['  ]| public before she should have heard what Mr%*Goodwood
233:053,09['  ]| would say about it.  He had said rather less than 
233:053,10['  ]| she expected, and she now had a somewhat angry sense 
233:053,11['  ]| of having lost time.  
233:053,11@a   | But she would lose no$2$ more; 
233:053,11['  ]| she 
233:053,12['  ]| waited till Mrs%*Touchett came into the drawing-room
233:053,13['  ]| before the mid-day breakfast, and then she 
233:053,14['  ]| began.  
233:053,14[A  ]| "Aunt Lydia, I have something to$9$ tell you."
233:053,15['  ]| Mrs%*Touchett gave a little jump and looked at her 
233:053,16['  ]| almost fiercely.  
233:053,16[G  ]| "You need not tell me; I know what 
233:053,17[G  ]| it is."
233:053,18[A  ]| "I do not know how you know."
233:053,19[G  ]| "The same way that$3$ I know when the window is
233:053,20[G  ]| open ~~ by$4$ feeling a draught.  You are going to$9$ marry
233:053,21[G  ]| that$6#2$ man."
233:053,22[A  ]| "What man do you mean?" 
233:053,22['  ]| Isabel enquired with 
233:053,23['  ]| great dignity.
233:053,24[G  ]| "Madame*Merle's friend ~~ Mr%*Osmond."
233:053,25[A  ]| "I do not know why you call him Madame*Merle's
233:053,26[A  ]| friend.  Is that$6#2$ the principal thing he is known by$4$ ?"
233:053,27[G  ]| "If he is not her friend he ought to$9$ be ~~ after what
233:054,01[G  ]| she has done for$4$ him!" 
233:054,01['  ]| cried Mrs%*Touchett.  
233:054,01[G  ]| "I 
233:054,02[G  ]| should not have expected it of her; I am disappointed."
233:054,03[A  ]| "If you mean that$3$ Madame*Merle has had anything
233:054,04[A  ]| to$9$ do with my engagement you are greatly mistaken,"
233:054,05['  ]| Isabel declared with a sort of ardent coldness.
233:054,06[G  ]| "You mean that$3$ your attractions were sufficient,
233:054,07[G  ]| without the gentleman's having had to$9$ be lashed up$5$?
233:054,08[G  ]| You are quite right.  They are immense, your attractions,
233:054,09[G  ]| and he would never have presumed to$9$ think
233:054,10[G  ]| of you if she had not put him up$5$ to$4$ it.  He has a very 
233:054,11[G  ]| good opinion of himself, but he was not a man to$9$ 
233:054,12[G  ]| take trouble.  Madame*Merle took the trouble \for$4$\
233:054,13[G  ]| him."
233:054,14[H  ]| "He has taken a great deal for$4$ himself!" 
233:054,14['  ]| cried
233:054,15['  ]| Isabel with a voluntary laugh.
233:054,16['  ]| Mrs%*Touchett gave a sharp nod.  
233:054,16[G  ]| "I think he must,
233:054,17[G  ]| after all, to$9$ have made you like$1$ him so$5#1$ much."
233:054,18[A  ]| "I thought he even pleased \you\."
233:054,19[G  ]| "He did, at one time; and that$6#2$ is why I am angry 
233:054,20[G  ]| with him."
233:054,21[A  ]| "Be angry with me, not with him," 
233:054,21['  ]| said the girl.
233:054,22[G  ]| "Oh, I am always angry with you; that$6#2$ is no$2$ satisfaction!
233:054,23[G  ]| Was it for$4$ this that$3$ you refused Lord*Warburton?"
233:054,24[G  ]| 
233:054,25[A  ]| "Please do not go back to$4$ that$6#2$.  Why should not I 
233:054,26[A  ]| like$1$ Mr%*Osmond, since others have done so$5#2$?"
233:054,27[G  ]| "Others, at their wildest moments, never wanted to$9$ 
233:054,28[G  ]| marry him.  There is nothing \of\ him,"  
233:054,28['  ]| Mrs%*Touchett
233:054,29['  ]| explained.
233:054,30[A  ]| "Then he can not hurt me," 
233:054,30['  ]| said Isabel
233:054,31[G  ]| "Do you think you are going to$9$ be happy?  No*one is
233:054,32[G  ]| happy, in$4$ such doings, you should know."
233:055,01[A  ]| "I shall set the fashion then.  What does one 
233:055,02[A  ]| marry for$4$?"
233:055,03[G  ]| "What \you\ will$1$ marry for$4$, heaven only knows.
233:055,04[G  ]| People usually marry as they go into partnership ~~
233:055,05[G  ]| to$9$ set up$5$ a house.  But in$4$ your partnership you will$1$
233:055,06[G  ]| bring everything."
233:055,07[A  ]| "Is it that$3$ Mr%*Osmond is not rich?  Is that$6#2$ what 
233:055,08[A  ]| you are talking about?" 
233:055,08['  ]| Isabel asked.
233:055,09[G  ]| "He has no$2$ money; he has no$2$ name; he has no$2$ 
233:055,10[G  ]| importance.  I value such things and I have the 
233:055,11[G  ]| courage to$9$ say it; I think they are very precious.
233:055,12[G  ]| Many other people think the same, and they show 
233:055,13[G  ]| it.  But they give some other reason."
233:055,14['  ]| Isabel hesitated a little.  
233:055,14[A  ]| "I think I value everything
233:055,15[A  ]| that$6#1$ is valuable.  I care very much for$4$ money,
233:055,16[A  ]| and that$6#2$ is why I wish Mr%*Osmond to$9$ have a 
233:055,17[A  ]| little."
233:055,18[G  ]| "Give it to$4$ him then; but marry some*one else."
233:055,19[A  ]| "His name is good enough for$4$ me," 
233:055,19['  ]| the girl went 
233:055,20['  ]| on$5$.  
233:055,20[A  ]| "It is a very pretty name.  Have I such a fine 
233:055,21[A  ]| one myself?"
233:055,22[G  ]| "All the more reason you should improve on$4$ it.
233:055,23[G  ]| There are only a dozen American names.  Do you
233:055,24[G  ]| marry him out of charity?"
233:055,25[A  ]| "It was my duty to$9$ tell you, Aunt Lydia, but I 
233:055,26[A  ]| do not think it is my duty to$9$ explain to$4$ you.  Even
233:055,27[A  ]| if it were I shoul not be able.  So$3$ please do not remonstrate; 
233:055,28[A  ]| in$4$ talking about it you have me at a disadvantage.
233:055,29[A  ]| I can not talk about it."
233:055,30[G  ]| "I do not remonstrate, I simply answer you: I must
233:055,31[G  ]| give some sign of intelligence.  I saw it coming, and 
233:055,32[G  ]| I said nothing. I never meddle."
233:056,01[A  ]| "You never do, and I am greatly obliged to$4$ you.
233:056,02[A  ]| You have been very considerate."
233:056,03[G  ]| "It was not considerate ~~ it was convenient,"
233:056,04['  ]| said Mrs%*Touchett.  
233:056,04[G  ]| "But I shall talk to$4$ Madame*Merle."
233:056,05[G  ]|
233:056,06[A  ]| "I do not see why you keep bringing her in$5$.  She 
233:056,07[A  ]| has been a very good friend to$4$ me."
233:056,08[G  ]| "Possibly; but she has been a poor one to$4$ me."
233:056,09[A  ]| "What has she done to$4$ you?"
233:056,10[G  ]| "She has deceived me.  She had as good as promised 
233:056,11[G  ]| me to$9$ prevent your engagement."
233:056,12[A  ]| "She could not have prevented it."
233:056,13[G  ]| "She can do anything; that$6#2$ is what I have always
233:056,14[G  ]| liked her for$4$.  I knew she could play any part; but 
233:056,15[G  ]| I understood that$3$ she played them one by$4$ one.  I 
233:056,16[G  ]| did not understand that$3$ she would play two at the 
233:056,17[G  ]| same time."
233:056,18[A  ]| "I do not know what part she may have played to$4$ 
233:056,19[A  ]| you," 
233:056,19['  ]| Isabel said; 
233:056,19[A  ]| "that$6#2$ is between yourselves.  To$4$
233:056,20[A  ]| me she has been honest and kind and devoted."
233:056,21[G  ]| "Devoted, of course; she wished you to$9$ marry 
233:056,22[G  ]| her candidate.  She told me she was watching you 
233:056,23[G  ]| only in$4$ order to$9$ interpose."
233:056,24[A  ]| "She said that$6#2$ to$9$ please you," 
233:056,24['  ]| the girl answered; 
233:056,25['  ]| conscious, however, of the inadequacy of the explanation.
233:056,26['  ]| 
233:056,27[G  ]| "To$9$ please me by$4$ deceiving me?  She knows me 
233:056,28[G  ]| better.  Am I pleased to-day?"
233:056,29[A  ]| "I do not think you are ever much pleased," 
233:056,29['  ]| Isabel
233:056,30['  ]| was obliged to$9$ reply.  
233:056,30[A  ]| "If Madame*Merle knew you 
233:056,31[A  ]| would learn the truth what had she to$9$ gain by$4$ insincerity?"
233:056,32[A  ]|   
233:057,01[G  ]| "She gained time, as you see.  While I waited for$4$ 
233:057,02[G  ]| her to$9$ interfere you were marching away, and she 
233:057,03[G  ]| was really beating the drum."
233:057,04[A  ]| "That$6#2$ is very well. But by$4$ your own admission
233:057,05[A  ]| you saw I was marching, and even if she had given
233:057,06[A  ]| the alarm you would not have tried to$9$ stop me."
233:057,07[G  ]| "No$7$, but some*one else would."
233:057,08[A  ]| "Whom do you mean?" 
233:057,08['  ]| Isabel asked, looking very 
233:057,09['  ]| hard at her aunt.
233:057,10['  ]| Mrs%*Touchett's little bright eyes, active as they 
233:057,11['  ]| usually were, sustained her gaze rather than returned
233:057,12['  ]| it.  
233:057,12[G  ]| "Would you have listened to$4$ Ralph?"
233:057,13[A  ]| "Not if he had abused Mr%*Osmond."
233:057,14[G  ]| "Ralph does not abuse people; you know that$6#2$ 
233:057,15[G  ]| perfectly.  He cares very much for$4$ you."
233:057,16[A  ]| "I know he does," 
233:057,16['  ]| said Isabel; 
233:057,16[A  ]| "and I shall feel 
233:057,17[A  ]| the value of it now, for$3$ he knows that$3$ whatever I do 
233:057,18[A  ]| I do with reason."
233:057,19[G  ]| "He never believed you would do this.  I told 
233:057,20[G  ]| him you were capable of it, and he argued the other 
233:057,21[G  ]| way."
233:057,22[A  ]| "He did it for$4$ the sake of argument," 
233:057,22['  ]| the girl
233:057,23['  ]| smiled.  
233:057,23[A  ]| "You do not accuse him of having deceived
233:057,24[A  ]| you; why should you accuse Madame*Merle?"
233:057,25[G  ]| "He never pretended he would prevent it."
233:057,26[A  ]| "I am glad of that$6#2$!" 
233:057,26['  ]| cried Isabel gaily.  
233:057,26[A  ]| "I wish
233:057,27[A  ]| very much," 
233:057,27['  ]| she presently added, 
233:057,27[A  ]| "that$3$ when he 
233:057,28['  ]| comes you would tell him first of my engagement."
233:057,29[G  ]| "Of course I will$1$ mention it," 
233:057,29['  ]| said Mrs%*Touchett.
233:057,30[G  ]| "I shall say nothing more to$4$ you about it, but I give
233:057,31[G  ]| you notice I shall talk to$4$ others."
233:057,32[A  ]| "That$6#2$ is as you please.  I only meant that$3$ it is
233:058,01[A  ]| rather better the announcement should come from
233:058,02[A  ]| you than from me."
233:058,03[G  ]| "I quite agree with you; it is much more proper!"
233:058,04['  ]| And on$4$ this the aunt and the niece went to$4$ breakfast, 
233:058,05['  ]| where Mrs%*Touchett, as good as her word,
233:058,06['  ]| made no$2$ allusion to$4$ Gilbert*Osmond.  After an 
233:058,07['  ]| interval of silence, however, she asked her companion 
233:058,08@g   | from whom she had received a visit an hour 
233:058,09@g   | before.
233:058,10[A  ]| "From an old friend ~~ an American gentleman,"
233:058,11['  ]| Isabel said with a colour in$4$ her cheek.
233:058,12[G  ]| "An American gentleman of course.  It is only 
233:058,13[G  ]| an American gentleman who$6#1$ calls at ten o'clock in$4$ 
233:058,14[G  ]| the morning."
233:058,15[A  ]| "It was half-past ten; he was in$4$ a great hurry;
233:058,16[A  ]| he goes away this evening."
233:058,17[G  ]| "Could not he have come yesterday, at the usual
233:058,18[G  ]| time?"
233:058,19[A  ]| "He only arrived last night."
233:058,20[G  ]| "He spends but twenty-four hours in$4$ Florence?"
233:058,21['  ]| Mrs%*Touchett cried.  
233:058,21[G  ]| "He is an American gentleman
233:058,22[G  ]| truly."
233:058,23[A  ]| "He is indeed," 
233:058,23['  ]| said Isabel, thinking with perverse 
233:058,24['  ]| admiration of what Caspar*Goodwood had 
233:058,25['  ]| done for$4$ her.
233:058,26['  ]| Two days afterward Ralph arrived; but though
233:058,27['  ]| Isabel was sure that$3$ Mrs%*Touchett had lost no$2$ time 
233:058,28['  ]| in$4$ imparting to$4$ him the great fact, he showed at first 
233:058,29['  ]| no$2$ open knowledge of it.  Their prompted talk was 
233:058,30['  ]| naturally of his health; Isabel had many questions
233:058,31['  ]| to$9$ ask about Corfu.  She had been shocked by$4$ his
233:058,32['  ]| appearance when he came into the room; she had 
233:059,01['  ]| forgotten how ill he looked.  In$4$ spite of Corfu he 
233:059,02['  ]| looked very ill to-day, and she wondered 
233:059,02@a   | if he were
233:059,03@a   | really worse or if she were simply disaccustomed to$4$ 
233:059,04@a   | living with an invalid.  
233:059,04['  ]| Poor Ralph made no$2$ nearer
233:059,05['  ]| approach to$4$ conventional beauty as he advanced in$4$ 
233:059,06['  ]| life, and the now apparently complete loss of his
233:059,07['  ]| health had done little to$9$ mitigate the natural oddity 
233:059,08['  ]| of his person.  Blighted and battered, but still responsive 
233:059,09['  ]| and still ironic, his face was like$4$ a lighted 
233:059,10['  ]| lantern patched with paper and unsteadily held;
233:059,11['  ]| his thin whisker languished upon$4$ a lean cheek;
233:059,12['  ]| the exorbitant curve of his nose defined itself
233:059,13['  ]| more sharply. Lean he was altogether, lean and long
233:059,14['  ]| and loose-jointed; an accidental cohesion of relaxed 
233:059,15['  ]| angles.  His brown velvet jacket had become
233:059,16['  ]| perennial; his hands had fixed themselves in$4$ his 
233:059,17['  ]| pockets; he shambled and stumbled and shuffled
233:059,18['  ]| in$4$ a manner that$6#1$ denoted great physical helplessness.
233:059,19['  ]| It was perhaps this whimsical gait that$6#1$ helped 
233:059,20['  ]| to$9$ mark his character more than ever as that$6#2$ of the 
233:059,21['  ]| humorous invalid ~~ the invalid for$4$ whom even
233:059,22['  ]| his own disabilities are part of the general joke.
233:059,23['  ]| They might well indeed with Ralph have been the 
233:059,24['  ]| chief cause of the want of seriousness marking his
233:059,25['  ]| view of a world in$4$ which$6#1$ the reason for$4$ his own
233:059,26['  ]| continued presence was past finding out.  Isabel 
233:059,27['  ]| had grown fond of his ugliness; his awkwardness
233:059,28['  ]| had become dear to$4$ her.  They had been sweetened
233:059,29['  ]| by$4$ association; they struck her as the very terms 
233:059,30['  ]| on$4$ which$6#1$ it had been given him to$9$ be charming.  He
233:059,31['  ]| was so$5#1$ charming that$3$ her sense of his being ill had
233:059,32['  ]| hitherto had a sort of comfort in$4$ it; the state of his
233:060,01['  ]| health had seemed not a limitation, but a kind of
233:060,02['  ]| intellectual advantage; it absolved him from all 
233:060,03['  ]| professional and official emotions and left him the 
233:060,04['  ]| luxury of being exclusively personal.  The personality 
233:060,05['  ]| so$5#2$ resulting was delightul; he had remained
233:060,06['  ]| proof against the staleness of disease; he had had
233:060,07['  ]| to$9$ consent to$9$ be deplorably ill, yet had somehow
233:060,08['  ]| escaped being formally sick.  Such had been the 
233:060,09['  ]| girl's impression of her cousin; and when she had 
233:060,10['  ]| pitied him it was only on$4$ reflection.  As she reflected 
233:060,11['  ]| a good deal she had allowed him a certain 
233:060,12['  ]| amount of compassion; but she always had a dread
233:060,13['  ]| of wasting that$6#2$ essence ~~ a precious article, worth 
233:060,14['  ]| more to$4$ the giver than to$4$ any*one else.  Now, however,
233:060,15['  ]| it took no$2$ great sensibility to$9$ feel that$3$ poor Ralph's
233:060,16['  ]| tenure of life was less elastic than it should be.  He
233:060,17['  ]| was a bright, free, generous spirit, he had all the illumination 
233:060,18['  ]| of wisdom and none of its pedantry, and 
233:060,19['  ]| yet he was distressfully dying.
233:060,20['  ]| Isabel noted afresh that$3$ life was certainly hard for$4$ 
233:060,21['  ]| some people, and she felt a delicate glow of shame
233:060,22['  ]| as she thought how easy it now promised to$9$ become
233:060,23['  ]| for$4$ herself.  She was prepared to$9$ learn that$3$ Ralph was 
233:060,24['  ]| not pleased with her engagement; but she was not
233:060,25['  ]| prepared, in$4$ spite of her affection for$4$ him, to$9$ let this
233:060,26['  ]| fact spoil the situation.  
233:060,26@a   | She was not even prepared,
233:060,27['  ]| or so$5#2$ she thought, 
233:060,27@a   | to$9$ resent his want of sympathy; 
233:060,28@a   | for$3$ it would be his privilege ~~ it would be indeed 
233:060,29@a   | his natural line ~~ to$9$ find fault with any step she
233:060,30@a   | might take toward marriage.  One's cousin always
233:060,31@a   | pretended to$9$ hate one's husband; that$6#2$ was traditional,
233:060,32@a   | classical; it was a part of one's cousin's
233:061,01@a   | always pretending to$9$ adore one.  Ralph was nothing
233:061,02@a   | if not critical; and though she would certainly, other 
233:061,03@a   | things being equal, have been as glad to$9$ marry to$9$ 
233:061,04@a   | please him as to$9$ please anyone, it would be absurd
233:061,05@a   | to$9$ regard as important that$3$ her choice should square
233:061,06@a   | with his views.  What were his views after all?  He
233:061,07@a   | had pretended to$9$ believe she had better have married
233:061,08@a   | Lord*Warburton; but this was only because she had
233:061,09@a   | refused that$6#2$ excellent man.  If she had accepted him
233:061,10@a   | Ralph would certainly have taken another tone; he 
233:061,11@a   | always took the opposite.  You could criticise any 
233:061,12@a   | marriage; it was the essence of a marriage to$9$ be open 
233:061,13@a   | to$4$ criticism.  How well she herself, should she only
233:061,14@a   | give her mind to$4$ it, might criticise this union of her
233:061,15@a   | own!  She had other employment, however, and Ralph 
233:061,16@a   | was welcome to$9$ relieve her of the care.  
233:061,16['  ]| Isabel was 
233:061,17['  ]| prepared to$9$ be most patient and most indulgent.  He 
233:061,18['  ]| must have seen that$6#2$, and this made it the more odd 
233:061,19['  ]| he should say nothing.  After three days had elapsed
233:061,20['  ]| without his speaking our young woman wearied of 
233:061,21['  ]| waiting; dislike it as he would, he might at least go 
233:061,22['  ]| through the form.  We, who$6#1$ know more about poor
233:061,23['  ]| Ralph than his cousin, may easily believe that$3$ during 
233:061,24['  ]| the hours that$6#1$ followed his arrival at Palazzo*Crescentini
233:061,25['  ]| he had privately gone through many forms.  His
233:061,26['  ]| mother had literally greeted him with the great news, 
233:061,27['  ]| which$6#1$ had been even more sensibly chilling than Mrs%*Touchett's
233:061,28['  ]| maternal kiss.  Ralph was shocked and 
233:061,29['  ]| humiliated; his calculations had been false and the 
233:061,30['  ]| person in$4$ the world in$4$ whom he was most interested 
233:061,31['  ]| was lost.  He drifted about the house like$4$ a rudderless
233:061,32['  ]| vessel in$4$ a rocky stream, or sat in$4$ the garden of 
233:062,01['  ]| the palace on$4$ a great cane chair, his long legs extended,
233:062,02['  ]| his head thrown back, and his hat pulled over
233:062,03['  ]| his eyes.  He felt cold about the heart; he had never 
233:062,04['  ]| liked anything less.  
233:062,04@b   | What could he do, what could he 
233:062,05@b   | say?  If the girl were irreclaimable could he pretend 
233:062,06@b   | to$9$ like$1$ it?  To$9$ attempt to$9$ reclaim her was permissible
233:062,07@b   | only if the attempt should succeed.  To$9$ try to$9$ persuade 
233:062,08@b   | her of anything sordid or sinister in$4$ the man to$4$ 
233:062,09@b   | whose deep art she had succumbed would be decently
233:062,10@b   | discreet only in$4$ the event of her being persuaded.
233:062,11@b   | Otherwise he should simply have damned himself.
233:062,12['  ]| It cost him an equal effort to$9$ speak his thought and to$9$ 
233:062,13['  ]| dissemble; he could neither assent with sincerity nor
233:062,14['  ]| protest with hope.  Meanwhile he knew ~~ or rather
233:062,15['  ]| he supposed ~~ that$3$ the affianced pair were daily renewing 
233:062,16['  ]| their mutual vows.  Osmond at this moment 
233:062,17['  ]| showed himself little at Palazzo*Crescentini; but Isabel
233:062,18['  ]| met him every day elsewhere, as she was free to$9$ do 
233:062,19['  ]| after their engagement had been made public.  She 
233:062,20['  ]| had taken a carriage by$4$ the month, so$3$ as not to$9$ be
233:062,21['  ]| indebted to$4$ her aunt for$4$ the means of pursuing a 
233:062,22['  ]| course of which$6#1$ Mrs%*Touchett disapproved, and she 
233:062,23['  ]| drove in$4$ the morning to$4$ the Cascine.  This suburban
233:062,24['  ]| wilderness, during the early hours, was void of all 
233:062,25['  ]| intruders, and our young lady, joined by$4$ her lover in$4$ 
233:062,26['  ]| its quietest part, strolled with him a while through the 
233:062,27['  ]| grey Italian shade and listened to$4$ the nightingales.
234:063,01['  ]| One morning, on$4$ her return from her drive, some half-hour
234:063,02['  ]| before luncheon, she quitted her vehicle in$4$ the 
234:063,03['  ]| court of the palace and, instead of ascending the great 
234:063,04['  ]| staircase, crossed the court, passed beneath another 
234:063,05['  ]| archway and entered the garden.  A sweeter spot at 
234:063,06['  ]| this moment could not have been imagined.  The stillness
234:063,07['  ]| of noontide hung over it, and the warm shade,
234:063,08['  ]| enclosed and still, made bowers like$4$ spacious caves.
234:063,09['  ]| Ralph was sitting there in$4$ the clear gloom, at the base 
234:063,10['  ]| of a stature of Terpsichore ~~ a dancing nymph with 
234:063,11['  ]| taper fingers and inflated draperies in$4$ the manner of 
234:063,12['  ]| Bernini; the extreme relaxation of his attitude suggested 
234:063,13['  ]| at first to$4$ Isabel that$3$ he was asleep.  Her light 
234:063,14['  ]| footstep on$4$ the grass had not roused him, and before 
234:063,15['  ]| turning away she stood for$4$ a moment looking at him.
234:063,16['  ]| During this instant he opened his eyes; upon$4$ which$6#1$ 
234:063,17['  ]| she sat down on$4$ a rustic chair that$6#1$ matched with his 
234:063,18['  ]| own.  Though in$4$ her irritation she had accused him
234:063,19['  ]| of indifference she was not blind to$4$ the fact that$3$ he
234:063,20['  ]| had visibly had something to$9$ brood over.  But she had
234:063,21['  ]| explained his air of absence partly by$4$ the languor of 
234:063,22['  ]| his increased weakness, partly by$4$ worries connected 
234:063,23['  ]| with the property inherited from his father ~~ the fruit
234:063,24['  ]| of eccentric arrangements of which$6#1$ Mrs%*Touchett 
234:063,25['  ]| disapproved and which$6#1$, as she had told Isabel, 
234:063,25@g   | now
234:063,26@g   | encountered opposition from the other partners in$4$ the 
234:063,27@g   | bank.  He ought to$9$ have gone to$4$ England, 
234:063,27['  ]| his mother 
234:064,01['  ]| said, 
234:064,01@g   | instead of coming to$4$ Florence; he had not been 
234:064,02@g   | there for$4$ months, and took no$2$ more interest in$4$ the 
234:064,03@g   | bank than in$4$ the state of Patagonia.
234:064,04[A  ]| "I am sorry I waked you," 
234:064,04['  ]| Isabel said; 
234:064,04[A  ]| "you look 
234:064,05[A  ]| too tired."
234:064,06[B  ]| "I feel too tired.  But I was not asleep.  I was thinking
234:064,07[B  ]| of you."
234:064,08[A  ]| "Are you tired of that$6#2$?"
234:064,09[B  ]| "Very much so$5#2$. It leads to$4$ nothing.  The road is
234:064,10[B  ]| long and I never arrive.'
234:064,11[A  ]| "What do you wish to$9$ arrive at?"  
234:064,11['  ]| she put to$4$ him,
234:064,12['  ]| closing her parasol.
234:064,13[B  ]| "At the point of expressing to$4$ myself properly what 
234:064,14[B  ]| I think of your engagement."
234:064,15[A  ]| "Do not think too much of it," 
234:064,15['  ]| she lightly returned.
234:064,16[B  ]| "Do you mean that$3$ it is none of my business?"
234:064,17[A  ]| "Beyond a certain point, yes."
234:064,18[B  ]| "That$6#2$ is the point I want to$9$ fix.  I had an idea you
234:064,19[B  ]| may have found me wanting in$4$ good manners.  I have 
234:064,20[B  ]| never congratulated you."
234:064,21[A  ]| "Of course I have noticed that$6#2$.  I wondered why you 
234:064,22[A  ]| were silent."
234:064,23[B  ]| "There have been a good many reasons.  I will$1$ tell
234:064,24[B  ]| you now," 
234:064,24['  ]| Ralph said.  He pulled off his hat and 
234:064,25['  ]| laid it on$4$ the ground; then he sat looking at her.  He 
234:064,26['  ]| leaned back under the protection of Bernini, his head
234:064,27['  ]| against his marble pedestal, his arms dropped on$4$ 
234:064,28['  ]| either side of him, his hands laid upon$4$ the rests of 
234:064,29['  ]| his wide chair.  He looked awkward, uncomfortable; 
234:064,30['  ]| he hesitated long.  Isabel said nothing; when people
234:064,31['  ]| were embarrassed she was usually sorry for$4$ them,
234:064,32['  ]| but she was determined not to$9$ help Ralph to$9$ utter 
234:065,01['  ]| a word that$6#1$ should not be to$4$ the honour of her high 
234:065,02['  ]| decision.  
234:065,02[B  ]| "I think I"ve hardly got over my surprise,"
234:065,03['  ]| he went on$5$ at last.  
234:065,03[B  ]| "You were the last person I expected 
234:065,04[B  ]| to$9$ see caught."
234:065,05[A  ]| "I do not know why you call it caught."
234:065,06[B  ]| "Because you are going to$9$ be put into a cage."
234:065,07[A  ]| "If I like$1$ my cage, that$6#2$ need not trouble you," 
234:065,07['  ]| she 
234:065,08['  ]| answered.
234:065,09[B  ]| "That$6#2$ is what I wonder at; that$6#2$ is what I have been 
234:065,10[B  ]| thinking of."
234:065,11[A  ]| "If you have been thinking you may imagine how
234:065,12[A  ]| I have thought! I am satisfied that$3$ I am doing well."
234:065,13[B  ]| "You must have changed immensely.  A year ago
234:065,14[B  ]| you valued your liberty beyond everything.  You 
234:065,15[B  ]| wanted only to$9$ see life."
234:065,16[A  ]| "I have seen it," 
234:065,16['  ]| said Isabel.  
234:065,16[A  ]| "It does not look to$4$ me
234:065,17[A  ]| now, I admit, such an inviting expanse."
234:065,18[B  ]| "I do not pretend it is; only I had an idea that$3$ you
234:065,19[B  ]| took a genial view of it and wanted to$9$ survey the 
234:065,20[B  ]| whole field."
234:065,21[A  ]| "I have seen that$3$ one can not do anything so$5#1$ general.
234:065,22[A  ]| One must choose a corner and cultivate that$6#2$."
234:065,23[B  ]| "That$6#2$ is what I think.  And one must choose as 
234:065,24[B  ]| good a corner as possible.  I had no$2$ idea, all winter,
234:065,25[B  ]| while I read your delightful letters, that$3$ you were 
234:065,26[B  ]| choosing.  You said nothing about it, and your silence
234:065,27[B  ]| put me off my guard."
234:065,28[A  ]| "It was not a matter I was likely to$9$ write to$4$ you 
234:065,29[A  ]| about.  Besides, I knew nothing of the future.  It has
234:065,30[A  ]| all come lately.  If you had been on$4$ your guard, however,"
234:065,31['  ]| Isabel asked, 
234:065,31[A  ]| "what would you have done?"
234:065,32[B  ]| "I should have said ""Wait a little longer."""
234:066,01[A  ]| "Wait for$4$ what?"
234:066,02[B  ]| "Well, for$4$ a little more light," 
234:066,02['  ]| said Ralph with 
234:066,03['  ]| rather an absurd smile, while his hands found their 
234:066,04['  ]| way into his pockets. 
234:066,05[A  ]| "Where should my light have come from?  From 
234:066,06[A  ]| you?"
234:066,07[B  ]| "I might have struck a spark or two."
234:066,08['  ]| Isabel had drawn off her gloves; she smoothed
234:066,09['  ]| them out as they lay upon$4$ her knee.  The mildness 
234:066,10['  ]| of this movement was accidental, for$3$ her expression
234:066,11['  ]| was not conciliatory.  
234:066,11[A  ]| "You are beating about the  
234:066,12[A  ]| bush, Ralph.  You wish to$9$ say you do not like$1$ Mr%*Osmond, 
234:066,13[A  ]| and yet you are afraid."
234:066,14[Z  ]| """Willing to$9$ wound and yet afraid to$9$ strike?""  
234:066,14[B  ]| I am 
234:066,15[B  ]| willing to$9$ wound \him\ yes ~~ but not to$9$ wound you.
234:066,16[B  ]| I am afraid of you, not of him.  If you marry him it 
234:066,17[B  ]| will$1$ not be a fortunate way for$4$ me to$9$ have spoken."
234:066,18[A  ]| "\If\ I marry him!  Have you had any expectation 
234:066,19[A  ]| of dissuading me?"
234:066,20[B  ]| "Of course that$6#2$ seems to$4$ you too fatuous."
234:066,21[A  ]| "No$7$," 
234:066,21['  ]| said Isabel after a little; 
234:066,21[A  ]| "it seems to$4$ me
234:066,22[A  ]| too touching."
234:066,23[B  ]| "That$6#2$ is the same thing.  It makes me so$5#1$ ridiculous 
234:066,24[B  ]| that$3$ you pity me."
234:066,25['  ]| She stroked out her long gloves again.  
234:066,25[A  ]| "I know
234:066,26[A  ]| you have a great affection for$4$ me.  I can not get rid of
234:066,27[A  ]| that$6#2$."
234:066,28[B  ]| "For$4$ heaven's sake do not try.  Keep that$6#2$ well in$4$
234:066,29[B  ]| sight.  It will$1$ convince you how intensely I want 
234:066,30[B  ]| you to$9$ do well."
234:066,31[A  ]| "And how little you trust me!"
234:066,32['  ]| There was a moment's silence; the warm noon-tide
234:067,01['  ]| seemed to$9$ listen.  
234:067,01[B  ]| "I trust you, but I do not trust 
234:067,02[B  ]| him," 
234:067,02['  ]| said Ralph.
234:067,03['  ]| She raised her eyes and gave him a wide, deep 
234:067,04['  ]| look.  
234:067,04[A  ]| "You have said it now, and I am glad you have
234:067,05[A  ]| made it so$5#1$ clear.  But you will$1$ suffer by$4$ it."
234:067,06[B  ]| "Not if you are just."
234:067,07[A  ]| "I am very just," 
234:067,07['  ]| said Isabel.  
234:067,07[A  ]| "What better proof
234:067,08[A  ]| of it can there be than that$3$ I am not angry with you?
234:067,09[A  ]| I do not know what is the matter with me, but I am not.
234:067,10[A  ]| I was when you began, but it has passed away.  Perhaps 
234:067,11[A  ]| I ought to$9$ be angry, but Mr%*Osmond would not
234:067,12[A  ]| think so$5#2$.  He wants me to$9$ know everything; that$6#2$ is 
234:067,13[A  ]| what I like$1$ him for$4$.  You have nothing to$9$ gain, I 
234:067,14[A  ]| know that$6#2$.  I have never been so$5#1$ nice to$4$ you, as a
234:067,15[A  ]| girl, that$3$ you should have much reason for$4$ wishing
234:067,16[A  ]| me to$9$ remain one.  You give very good advice;
234:067,17[A  ]| you have often done so$5#2$.  No$7$, I am very quiet; I have
234:067,18[A  ]| always believed in$4$ your wisdom," 
234:067,18['  ]| she went on$5$, boasting
234:067,19['  ]| of her quietness, yet speaking with a kind of 
234:067,20['  ]| contained exaltation.  It was her passionate desire
234:067,21['  ]| to$9$ be just; it touched Ralph to$4$ the heart, affected
234:067,22['  ]| him like$4$ a caress from a creature he had injured.
234:067,23['  ]| He wished to$9$ interrupt, to$9$ reassure her; for$4$ a moment 
234:067,24['  ]| he was absurdly inconsistent; he would have 
234:067,25['  ]| retracted what he had said.  But she gave him no$2$ 
234:067,26['  ]| chance; she went on$5$, having caught a glimpse,
234:067,27['  ]| as she thought, of the heroic line and desiring to$9$ advance
234:067,28['  ]| in$4$ that$6#2$ direction.  
234:067,28[A  ]| "I see you have some special
234:067,29[A  ]| idea; I should like$1$ very much to$9$ hear it.  I am sure
234:067,30[A  ]| it is disinterested; I feel that$6#2$.  It seems a strange 
234:067,31[A  ]| thing to$9$ argue about, and of course I ought to$9$ tell 
234:067,32[A  ]| you definitely that$3$ if you expect to$9$ dissuade me 
234:068,01[A  ]| you may give it up$5$.  You will$1$ not move me an inch;
234:068,02[A  ]| it is too late.  As you say, I am caught.  Certainly
234:068,03[A  ]| it will$1$ not be pleasant for$4$ you to$9$ remember this, but 
234:068,04[A  ]| your pain will$1$ be in$4$ your own thoughts.  I shall 
234:068,05[A  ]| never reproach you."
234:068,06[B  ]| "I do not think you ever will$1$," 
234:068,06['  ]| said Ralph.  
234:068,06[B  ]| "It is
234:068,07[B  ]| not in$4$ the least the sort of marriage I thought you would
234:068,08[B  ]| make."
234:068,09[A  ]| "What sort of marriage was that$6#2$, pray?"
234:068,10[B  ]| "Well, I can hardly say.  I had not exactly a positive 
234:068,11[B  ]| view of it, but I had a negative.  I did not think 
234:068,12[B  ]| you would decide for$4$ ~~ well, for$4$ \that$6#2$\ type."
234:068,13[A  ]| "What is the matter with Mr%*Osmond's type,
234:068,14[A  ]| if it be one?  His being so$5#1$ independent, so$5#1$ individual,
234:068,15[A  ]| is what \I\ most see in$4$ him,"  
234:068,15['  ]| the girl declared.
234:068,16[A  ]| "What do you know against him? You know him 
234:068,17[A  ]| scarcely at all.'
234:068,18[B  ]| "Yes," 
234:068,18['  ]| Ralph said, 
234:068,18[B  ]| "I know him very little, and 
234:068,19[B  ]| I confess I have not facts and items to$9$ prove him a 
234:068,20[B  ]| villain.  But all the same I can not help feeling that$3$
234:068,21[B  ]| you are running a grave risk."
234:068,22[A  ]| "Marriage is always a grave risk, and his risk is
234:068,23[A  ]| as grave as mine."
234:068,24[B  ]| "That$6#2$ is his affair!  If he is afraid, let him back
234:068,25[B  ]| out.  I wish to$4$ God he would."
234:068,26['  ]| Isabel reclined in$4$ her chair, folding her arms
234:068,27['  ]| and gazing a while at her cousin.  
234:068,27[A  ]| "I do not think I 
234:068,28[A  ]| understand you,"  
234:068,28['  ]| she said at last coldly.  
234:068,28[A  ]| "I do not
234:068,29[A  ]| know what you are talking about."
234:068,30[B  ]| "I believed you would marry a man of more importance."
234:068,31[B  ]| 
234:068,32['  ]| Cold, I say, her tone had been, but at this a colour
234:069,01['  ]| like$4$ a flame leaped into her face.  
234:069,01[A  ]| "Of more importance 
234:069,02[A  ]| to$4$ whom?  It seems to$4$ me enough that$3$ one's
234:069,03[A  ]| husband should be of importance to$4$ one's self!"
234:069,04['  ]| Ralph blushed as well; his attitude embarrassed 
234:069,05['  ]| him.  Physically speaking he proceeded to$9$ change
234:069,06['  ]| it; he straightened himself, then leaned forward,
234:069,07['  ]| resting a hand on$4$ each knee.  He fixed his eyes on$4$ 
234:069,08['  ]| the ground; he had an air of the most respectful
234:069,09['  ]| deliberation.  
234:069,09[B  ]| "I will$1$ tell you in$4$ a moment what I 
234:069,10[B  ]| mean," 
234:069,10['  ]| he presently said. He felt agitated, intensely
234:069,11['  ]| eager; now that$3$ he had opened the discussion he
234:069,12['  ]| wished to$9$ discharge his mind.  But he wished also 
234:069,13['  ]| to$9$ be superlatively gentle.
234:069,14['  ]| Isabel waited a little ~~ then she went on$5$ with 
234:069,15['  ]| majesty.  
234:069,15[A  ]| "In$4$ everything that$6#1$ makes one care for$4$ 
234:069,16[A  ]| people Mr%*Osmond is pre-eminent.  There may be
234:069,17[A  ]| nobler natures, but I have never had the pleasure of 
234:069,18[A  ]| meeting one.  Mr%*Osmond's is the finest I know; he is
234:069,19[A  ]| good enough for$4$ me, and interesting enough, and
234:069,20[A  ]| clever enough.  I am far more struck with what he has
234:069,21[A  ]| and what he represents than with what he may lack."
234:069,22[B  ]| "I had treated myself to$4$ a charming vision of 
234:069,23[B  ]| your future," 
234:069,23['  ]| Ralph observed without answering
234:069,24['  ]| this; 
234:069,24[B  ]| "I had amused myself with planning out a
234:069,25[B  ]| high destiny for$4$ you.  There was to$9$ be nothing of 
234:069,26[B  ]| this sort in$4$ it.  You were not to$9$ come down so$5#1$ easily
234:069,27[B  ]| or so$5#1$ soon."
234:069,28[A  ]| "Come down, you say?"
234:069,29[B  ]| "Well, that$6#2$ renders my sense of what has happened 
234:069,30[B  ]| to$4$ you.  You seemed to$4$ me to$9$ be soaring far
234:069,31[B  ]| up$5$ in$4$ the blue ~~ to$9$ be, sailing in$4$ the bright light,
234:069,32[B  ]| over the heads of men.  Suddenly some*one tosses 
234:070,01[B  ]| up$5$ a faded rosebud ~~ a missile that$6#1$ should never
234:070,02[B  ]| have reached you ~~ and straight you drop to$4$ the 
234:070,03[B  ]| ground.  It hurts me," 
234:070,03['  ]| said Ralph audaciously,
234:070,04[B  ]| "hurts me as if I had fallen myself!"
234:070,05['  ]| The look of pain and bewilderment deepened in$4$ 
234:070,06['  ]| his companion's face.  
234:070,06[A  ]| "I do not understand you in$4$
234:070,07[A  ]| the least," 
234:070,07['  ]| she repeated.  
234:070,07[A  ]| "You say you amused yourself
234:070,08[A  ]| with a project for$4$ my career ~~ I do not understand
234:070,09[A  ]| that$6#2$.  Do not amuse yourself too much, or I 
234:070,10[A  ]| shall think you are doing it at my expense."
234:070,11['  ]| Ralph shook his head.  
234:070,11[B  ]| "I am not afraid of your 
234:070,12[B  ]| not believing that$3$ I have had great ideas for$4$ you."
234:070,13[A  ]| "What do you mean by$4$ my soaring and sailing?"
234:070,14['  ]| she pursued.  
234:070,14[A  ]| "I have never moved on$4$ a higher plane
234:070,15[A  ]| than I am moving on$4$ now.  There is nothing higher
234:070,16[A  ]| for$4$ a girl than to$9$ marry a ~~ a person she likes,"
234:070,17['  ]| said poor Isabel, wandering into the didactic.
234:070,18[B  ]| "It is your liking the person we speak of that$6#1$ I 
234:070,19[B  ]| venture to$9$ criticise, my dear cousin.  I should have 
234:070,20[B  ]| said that$3$ the man for$4$ you would have been a more 
234:070,21[B  ]| active, larger, freer sort of nature." 
234:070,21['  ]| Ralph hesitated,
234:070,22['  ]| then added: 
234:070,22[B  ]| "I can not get over the sense that$3$ Osmond
234:070,23[B  ]| is somehow ~~ well, small."  
234:070,23['  ]| He had uttered the last 
234:070,24['  ]| word with no$2$ great assurance; he was afraid she 
234:070,25['  ]| would flash out again.  But to$4$ his surprise she was
234:070,26['  ]| quiet; she had the air of considering.
234:070,27[A  ]| "Small?" 
234:070,27['  ]| She made it sound immense.
234:070,28[B  ]| "I think he is narrow, selfish.  He takes himself
234:070,29[B  ]| so$5#1$ seriously!"
234:070,30[A  ]| "He has a great respect for$4$ himself; I do not blame
234:070,31[A  ]| him for$4$ that$6#2$," 
234:070,31['  ]| said Isabel.  
234:070,31[A  ]| "It makes one more
234:070,32[A  ]| sure to$9$ respect others."
234:071,01['  ]| Ralph for$4$ a moment felt almost reassured by$4$ her 
234:071,02['  ]| reasonable tone.  
234:071,02[B  ]| "Yes, but everything is relative; 
234:071,03[B  ]| one ought to$9$ feel one's relation to$4$ things ~~ to$4$ others.
234:071,04[B  ]| I do not think Mr%*Osmond does that$6#2$."
234:071,05[A  ]| "I have chiefly to$9$ do with his relation to$4$ me. In$4$
234:071,06[A  ]| that$6#2$ he is excellent."
234:071,07[B  ]| "He is the incarnation of taste," 
234:071,07['  ]| Ralph went on$5$,
234:071,08['  ]| thinking hard how he could best express Gilbert*Osmond's
234:071,09['  ]| sinister attributes without putting himself
234:071,10['  ]| in$4$ the wrong by$4$ seeming to$9$ describe him coarsely.
234:071,11['  ]| He wished to$9$ describe him impersonally, scientifically.
234:071,12[B  ]| "He judges and measures, approves and condemns,
234:071,13[B  ]| altogether by$4$ that$6#2$."
234:071,14[A  ]| "It is a happy thing then that$3$ his taste should be 
234:071,15[A  ]| exquisite."
234:071,16[B  ]| "It is exquisite, indeed, since it has led him to$9$ select
234:071,17[B  ]| you as his bride.  But have you ever seen such a 
234:071,18[B  ]| taste ~~ a really exquisite one ~~ ruffled?"
234:071,19[A  ]| "I hope it may never be my fortune to$9$ fail to$9$ 
234:071,20[A  ]| gratify my husband's."
234:071,21['  ]| At these words a sudden passion leaped to$4$ Ralph's
234:071,22['  ]| lips.  
234:071,22[B  ]| "Ah, that$6#2$ is wilful, that$6#2$ is unworthy of you!
234:071,23[B  ]| You were not meant to$9$ be measured in$4$ that$6#2$ way ~~
234:071,24[B  ]| you were meant for$4$ something better than to$9$ keep
234:071,25[B  ]| guard over the sensibilities of a sterile dilettante!"
234:071,26['  ]| Isabel rose quickly and he did the same, so$3$ that$3$
234:071,27['  ]| they stood for$4$ a moment looking at each other as
234:071,28['  ]| if he had flung down a defiance or an insult.  But
234:071,29[A  ]| "You go too far," 
234:071,29['  ]| she simply breathed.
234:071,30[B  ]| "I have said what I had on$4$ my mind ~~ and I have
234:071,31[B  ]| said it because I love you!"
234:071,32['  ]| Isabel turned pale: 
234:071,32@a   | was he too on$4$ that$6#2$ tiresome  
234:072,01@a   | list?  
234:072,01['  ]| She had a sudden wish to$9$ strike him off.  
234:072,01[A  ]| "Ah
234:072,02[A  ]| then, you are not disinterested!"
234:072,03[B  ]| "I love you, but I love without hope," 
234:072,03['  ]| said Ralph
234:072,04['  ]| quickly, forcing a smile and feeling that$3$ in$4$ that$6#2$ last 
234:072,05['  ]| declaration he had expressed more than he intended.
234:072,06['  ]| Isabel moved away and stood looking into the 
234:072,07['  ]| sunny stillness of the garden; but after a little she 
234:072,08['  ]| turned back to$4$ him.  
234:072,08[A  ]| "I am afraid your talk then
234:072,09[A  ]| is the wildness of despair!  I do not understand it ~~
234:072,10[A  ]| but it does not matter.  I am not arguing with you;
234:072,11[A  ]| it is impossible I should; I have only tried to$9$ listen
234:072,12[A  ]| to$4$ you.  I am much obliged to$4$ you for$4$ attempting to$9$ 
234:072,13[A  ]| explain," 
234:072,13['  ]| she said gently, as if the anger with which$6#1$
234:072,14['  ]| she had just sprung up$5$ had already subsided.  
234:072,14[A  ]| "It is
234:072,15[A  ]| very good of you to$9$ try to$9$ warn me, if you are
234:072,16[A  ]| really alarmed; but I will$1$ not promise to$9$ think of what 
234:072,17[A  ]| you have said: I shall forget it as soon as possible.  Try
234:072,18[A  ]| and forget it yourself; you have done your duty, and 
234:072,19[A  ]| no$2$ man can do more.  I can not explain to$4$ you what 
234:072,20[A  ]| I feel, what I believe, and I would not if I could."
234:072,21['  ]| She paused a moment and then went on$5$ with an 
234:072,22['  ]| inconsequence that$6#1$ Ralph observed even in$4$ the midst
234:072,23['  ]| of his eagerness to$9$ discover some symptom of concession. 
234:072,24[A  ]| "I can not enter into your idea of Mr%*Osmond; 
234:072,25[A  ]| I can not do it justice, because I see him in$4$ 
234:072,26[A  ]| quite another way.  He is not important ~~ no$7$, he is
234:072,27[A  ]| not important; he is a man to$4$ whom importance is 
234:072,28[A  ]| supremely indifferent.  If that$6#2$ is what you mean
234:072,29[A  ]| when you call him ""small,"" then he is as small as you 
234:072,30[A  ]| please.  I call that$6#2$ large ~~ it is the largest thing I 
234:072,31[A  ]| know.  I will$1$ not pretend to$9$ argue with you about a 
234:072,32[A  ]| person I am going to$9$ marry,"  
234:072,32['  ]| Isabel repeated.  
234:072,32[A  ]| "I am
234:073,01[A  ]| not in$4$ the least concerned to$9$ defend Mr%*Osmond;
234:073,02[A  ]| he is not so$5#1$ weak as to$9$ need my defence.  I should
234:073,03[A  ]| think it would seem strange even to$4$ yourself that$3$ 
234:073,04[A  ]| I should talk of him so$5#1$ quietly and coldly, as if he 
234:073,05[A  ]| were any*one else.  I would not talk of him at all to$4$ 
234:073,06[A  ]| any*one but you; and you, after what you have said
234:073,07[A  ]| ~~ I may just answer you once for$4$ all.  Pray, would
234:073,08[A  ]| you wish me to$9$ make a mercenary marriage ~~ what 
234:073,09[A  ]| they call a marriage of ambition?  I have only one 
234:073,10[A  ]| ambition ~~ to$9$ be free to$9$ follow out a good feeling.
234:073,11[A  ]| I had others once, but they have passed away.  Do you
234:073,12[A  ]| complain of Mr%*Osmond because he is not rich?
234:073,13[A  ]| That$6#2$ is just what I like$1$ him for$4$.  I have fortunately
234:073,14[A  ]| money enough; I have never felt so$5#1$ thankful for$4$ it
234:073,15[A  ]| as to-day.  There have been moments when I should
234:073,16[A  ]| like$1$ to$9$ go and kneel down by$4$ your father's grave:
234:073,17[A  ]| he did perhaps a better thing than he knew when
234:073,18[A  ]| he put it into my power to$9$ marry a poor man ~~ a
234:073,19[A  ]| man who$6#1$ has borne his poverty with such dignity,
234:073,20[A  ]| with such indifference.  Mr%*Osmond has never
234:073,21[A  ]| scrambled nor struggled ~~ he has cared for$4$ no$2$ 
234:073,22[A  ]| worldly prize.  If that$6#2$ is to$9$ be narrow, if that$6#2$ is to$9$ 
234:073,23[A  ]| be selfish, then it is very well.  I am not frightened
234:073,24[A  ]| by$4$ such words, I am not even displeased; I am only
234:073,25[A  ]| sorry that$3$ you should make a mistake.  Others might
234:073,26[A  ]| have done so$5#2$, but I am surprised that$3$ \you\ should.
234:073,27[A  ]| You might know a gentleman when you see one ~~
234:073,28[A  ]| you might know a fine mind.  Mr%*Osmond makes
234:073,29[A  ]| no$2$ mistakes!  He knows everything, he understands
234:073,30[A  ]| everything, he has the kindest, gentlest, highest spirit.
234:073,31[A  ]| You have got hold of some false idea.  It is a pity, but 
234:073,32[A  ]| I can not help it; it regards you more than me."  
234:073,32['  ]| Isabel 
234:074,01['  ]| paused a moment, looking at her cousin with an 
234:074,02['  ]| eye illumined by$4$ a sentiment which$6#1$ contradicted 
234:074,03['  ]| the careful calmness of her manner ~~ a mingled
234:074,04['  ]| sentiment, to$4$ which$6#1$ the angry pain excited by$4$ his
234:074,05['  ]| words and the wounded pride of having needed to$9$ 
234:074,06['  ]| justify a choice of which$6#1$ she felt only the nobleness
234:074,07['  ]| and purity, equally contributed.  Though she paused
234:074,08['  ]| Ralph said nothing; he saw she had more to$9$ say.
234:074,09@b   | She was grand, but she was highly solicitous; she 
234:074,10@b   | was indifferent, but she was all in$4$ a passion.  
234:074,10[A  ]| "What
234:074,11[A  ]| sort of a person should you have liked me to$9$ marry?"
234:074,12['  ]| she asked suddenly.  
234:074,12[A  ]| "You talk about one's soaring
234:074,13[A  ]| and sailing, but if one marries at all one touches 
234:074,14[A  ]| the earth.  One has human feelings and needs, one
234:074,15[A  ]| has a heart in$4$ one's bosom, and one must marry 
234:074,16[A  ]| a particular individual.  Your mother has never
234:074,17[A  ]| forgiven me for$4$ not having come to$4$ a better understanding
234:074,18[A  ]| with Lord*Warburton, and she is horrified
234:074,19[A  ]| at my contenting myself with a person who$6#1$ has none
234:074,20[A  ]| of his great advantages ~~ no$2$ property, no$2$ title,
234:074,21[A  ]| no$2$ honours, no$2$ houses, nor lands, nor position, nor
234:074,22[A  ]| reputation, nor brilliant belongings of any sort.
234:074,23[A  ]| It is the total absence of all these things that$6#1$ pleases 
234:074,24[A  ]| me.  Mr%*Osmond is simply a very lonely, a very 
234:074,25[A  ]| cultivated and a very honest man ~~ he is not a prodigious
234:074,26[A  ]| proprietor."
234:074,27['  ]| Ralph had listened with great attention, as 
234:074,28['  ]| everything she said merited deep consideration;
234:074,29['  ]| but in$4$ truth he was only half thinking of the things she
234:074,30['  ]| said, he was for$4$ the rest simply accommodating himself
234:074,31['  ]| to$4$ the weight of his total impression ~~ the impression 
234:074,32['  ]| of her ardent good faith.  
234:074,32@b   | She was wrong, 
234:075,01@b   | but she believed; she was deluded, but she was
234:075,02@b   | dismally consistent.  It was wonderfully characteristic
234:075,03@b   | of her that$3$, having invented a fine theory about
234:075,04@b   | Gilbert*Osmond, she loved him not for$4$ what he really
234:075,05@b   | possessed, but for$4$ his very poverties dressed out as 
234:075,06@b   | honours.  
234:075,06['  ]| Ralph remembered what he had said to$4$ 
234:075,07['  ]| his father about 
234:075,07@b   | wishing to$9$ put it into her power to$9$ 
234:075,08@b   | meet the requirements of her imagination.  He had
234:075,09@b   | done so$5#2$, and the girl had taken full advantage of 
234:075,10@b   | the luxury.  
234:075,10['  ]| Poor Ralph felt sick; he felt ashamed.
234:075,11['  ]| Isabel had uttered her last words with a low solemnity
234:075,12['  ]| of conviction which$6#1$ virtually terminated the discussion,
234:075,13['  ]| and she closed it formally by$4$ turning away
234:075,14['  ]| and walking back to$4$ the house.  Ralph walked beside 
234:075,15['  ]| her, and they passed into the court together 
234:075,16['  ]| and reached the big staircase.  Here he stopped and 
234:075,17['  ]| Isabel paused, turning on$4$ him a face of elation ~~
234:075,18['  ]| absolutely and perversely of gratitude.  His opposition
234:075,19['  ]| had made her own conception of her conduct
234:075,20['  ]| clearer to$4$ her.  
234:075,20[A  ]| "Shall you not come up$5$ to$4$ breakfast?"
234:075,21['  ]| she asked.
234:075,22[B  ]| "No$7$; I want no$2$ breakfast; I am not hungry."
234:075,23[A  ]| "You ought to$9$ eat," 
234:075,23['  ]| said the girl; 
234:075,23[A  ]| "you live on$4$ 
234:075,24[A  ]| air."
234:075,25[B  ]| "I do, very much, and I shall go back into the 
234:075,26[B  ]| garden and take another mouthful.  I came thus far 
234:075,27[B  ]| simply to$9$ say this.  I told you last year that$3$ if you
234:075,28[B  ]| were to$9$ get into trouble I should feel terribly sold.
234:075,29[B  ]| That$6#2$ is how I feel to-day."
234:075,30[A  ]| "Do you think I am in$4$ trouble?"
234:075,31[B  ]| "One is in$4$ trouble when one is in$4$ error."
234:075,32[A  ]| "Very well," 
234:075,32['  ]| said Isabel; 
234:075,32[A  ]| "I shall never complain
234:076,01[A  ]| of my trouble to$4$ you!"  
234:076,01['  ]| And she moved up$4$ the staircase.
234:076,01['  ]| 
234:076,03['  ]| Ralph, standing there with his hands in$4$ his pockets,
234:076,04['  ]| followed her with his eyes; then the lurking chill
234:076,05['  ]| of the high-walled court struck him and made him 
234:076,06['  ]| shiver, so$3$ that$3$ he returned to$4$ the garden to$9$ breakfast 
234:076,07['  ]| on$4$ the Florentine sunshine.
235:077,01['  ]| Isabel, when she strolled in$4$ the Cascine with her 
235:077,02['  ]| lover, felt no$2$ impulse to$9$ tell him how little he was 
235:077,03['  ]| approved at Palazzo*Crescentini.  The discreet opposition
235:077,04['  ]| offered to$4$ her marriage by$4$ her aunt and 
235:077,05['  ]| her cousin made on$4$ the whole no$2$ great impression
235:077,06['  ]| upon$4$ her; the moral of it was simply that$3$ they disliked 
235:077,07['  ]| Gilbert*Osmond.  This dislike was not alarming 
235:077,08['  ]| to$4$ Isabel; she scarcely even regretted it; for$3$ 
235:077,09['  ]| it served mainly to$9$ throw into higher relief the fact,
235:077,10['  ]| in$4$ every way so$5#1$ honourable, that$3$ she married to$9$ 
235:077,11['  ]| please herself.  
235:077,11@a   | One did other things to$9$ please other 
235:077,12@a   | people; one did this for$4$ a more personal satisfaction;
235:077,13['  ]| and Isabel's satisfaction was confirmed by$4$ her 
235:077,14['  ]| lover's admirable good conduct.  Gilbert*Osmond 
235:077,15['  ]| was in$4$ love, and he had never deserved less than 
235:077,16['  ]| during these still, bright days, each of them numbered,
235:077,17['  ]| which$6#1$ preceded the fulfilment of his hopes, the 
235:077,18['  ]| harsh criticism passed upon$4$ him by$4$ Ralph*Touchett.
235:077,19['  ]| The chief impression produced on$4$ Isabel's spirit by$4$ 
235:077,20['  ]| this criticism was that$3$ the passion of love separated 
235:077,21['  ]| its victim terribly from every*one but the loved object.
235:077,22['  ]| She felt herself 
235:077,22@a   | disjoined from every*one she 
235:077,23@a   | had ever known before ~~ from her two sisters, who$6#1$ 
235:077,24@a   | wrote to$9$ express a dutiful hope that$3$ she would be 
235:077,25@a   | happy, and a surprise, somewhat more vague, at 
235:077,26@a   | her not having chosen a consort who$6#1$ was the hero
235:077,27@a   | of a richer accumulation of ancedote; from Henrietta,
235:078,01@a   | who$6#1$, she was sure, would come out, too late, on$4$ purpose
235:078,02@a   | to$9$ remonstrate; from Lord*Warburton, who$6#1$ 
235:078,03@a   | would certainly console himself, and from Caspar*Goodwood,
235:078,04@a   | who$6#1$ perhaps would not; from her aunt, 
235:078,05@a   | who$6#1$ had cold, shallow ideas about marriage, for$4$ 
235:078,06@a   | which$6#1$ she was not sorry to$9$ display her contempt;
235:078,07@a   | and from Ralph, whose talk about having great 
235:078,08@a   | views for$4$ her was surely but a whimsical cover for$4$ a 
235:078,09@a   | personal disappointment.  Ralph apparently wished
235:078,10@a   | her not to$9$ marry at all ~~ that$6#2$ was what it really 
235:078,11@a   | meant ~~ because he was amused with the spectacle
235:078,12@a   | of her adventures as a single woman.  His disappointment
235:078,13@a   | made him say angry things about the man 
235:078,14@a   | she had preferred even to$4$ him: 
235:078,14['  ]| Isabel flattered herself
235:078,15['  ]| that$3$ she believed Ralph had been angry.  It
235:078,16['  ]| was the more easy for$4$ her to$9$ believe this because, as
235:078,17['  ]| I say, she had now little free or unemployed emotion
235:078,18['  ]| for$4$ minor needs, and accepted as an incident, in$4$
235:078,19['  ]| fact quite as an ornament, of her lot the idea that$3$ 
235:078,20['  ]| to$9$ prefer Gilbert*Osmond as she preferred him was
235:078,21['  ]| perforce to$9$ break all other ties.  She tasted of the 
235:078,22['  ]| sweets of this preference, and they made her conscious,
235:078,23['  ]| almost with awe, of the invidious and remorseless
235:078,24['  ]| tide of the charmed and possessed condition,
235:078,25['  ]| great as was the traditional honour and imputed
235:078,26['  ]| virtue of being in$4$ love.  It was the tragic part of happiness;
235:078,27['  ]| one's right was always made of the wrong 
235:078,28['  ]| of some*one else.
235:078,29['  ]| The elation of success, which$6#1$ surely now flamed 
235:078,30['  ]| high in$4$ Osmond, emitted meanwhile very little 
235:078,31['  ]| smoke for$4$ so$5#1$ brilliant a blaze.  Contentment, on$4$
235:078,32['  ]| his part, took no$2$ vulgar form; excitement, in$4$ the 
235:079,01['  ]| most self-conscious of men, was a kind of ecstasy
235:079,02['  ]| of self-control.  This disposition, however, made him
235:079,03['  ]| an admirable lover; it gave him a constant view of 
235:079,04['  ]| the smitten and dedicated state.  He never forgot
235:079,05['  ]| himself, as I say; and so$3$ he never forgot to$9$ be graceful
235:079,06['  ]| and tender, to$9$ wear the appearance ~~ which$6#1$ presented 
235:079,07['  ]| indeed no$2$ difficulty ~~ of stirred senses and 
235:079,08['  ]| deep intentions.  He was immensely pleased with 
235:079,09['  ]| his young lady; Madame*Merle had made him a 
235:079,10['  ]| present of incalculable value.  
235:079,10@c   | What could be a finer
235:079,11@c   | thing to$9$ live with than a high spirit attuned to$4$ softness?
235:079,12@c   | For$3$ would not the softness be all for$4$ one's 
235:079,13@c   | self, and the strenuousness for$4$ society, which$6#1$ admired
235:079,14@c   | the air of superiority?  What could be a happier gift 
235:079,15@c   | in$4$ a companion than a quick, fanciful mind which$6#1$
235:079,16@c   | saved one repetitions and reflected one's thought on$4$ a 
235:079,17@c   | polished, elegant surface?  
235:079,17['  ]| Osmond hated to$9$ see his
235:079,18['  ]| thought reproduced literally ~~ that$6#2$ made it look stale 
235:079,19['  ]| and stupid; he preferred it to$9$ be freshened in$4$ the 
235:079,20['  ]| reproduction even as "words" by$4$ music.  His egotism
235:079,21['  ]| had never taken the crude form of desiring a dull
235:079,22['  ]| wife; this lady's intelligence was to$9$ be a silver plate,
235:079,23['  ]| not an earthen one ~~ a plate that$6#1$ he might heap up$5$ 
235:079,24['  ]| with ripe fruits, to$4$ which$6#1$ it would give a decorative 
235:079,25['  ]| value, so$3$ that$3$ talk might become for$4$ him a sort 
235:079,26['  ]| of served dessert.  He found the silver quality in$4$ 
235:079,27['  ]| this perfection in$4$ Isabel; he could tap her imagination
235:079,28['  ]| with his knuckle and make it ring.  He knew
235:079,29['  ]| perfectly, though he had not been told, that$3$ their 
235:079,30['  ]| union enjoyed little favour with the girl's relations;
235:079,31['  ]| but he had always treated her so$5#1$ completely as an
235:079,32['  ]| independent person that$3$ it hardly seemed necessary 
235:080,01['  ]| to$9$ express regret for$4$ the attitude of her family.
235:080,02['  ]| Nevertheless, one morning, he made an abrupt allusion
235:080,03['  ]| to$4$ it.  
235:080,03[C  ]| "It is the difference in$4$ our fortune they 
235:080,04[C  ]| do not like$1$," 
235:080,04['  ]| he said.  
235:080,04[C  ]| "They think I am in$4$ love with 
235:080,05[C  ]| your money."
235:080,06[A  ]| "Are you speaking of my aunt ~~ of my cousin?"
235:080,07['  ]| Isabel asked.  
235:080,07[A  ]| "How do you know what they think?"
235:080,08[C  ]| "You have not told me they are pleased, and when 
235:080,09[C  ]| I wrote to$4$ Mrs%*Touchett the other day she never
235:080,10[C  ]| answered my note.  If they had been delighted I 
235:080,11[C  ]| should have had some sign of it, and the fact of my 
235:080,12[C  ]| being poor and you rich is the most obvious explanation
235:080,13[C  ]| of their reserve.  But of course when a poor man
235:080,14[C  ]| marries a rich girl he must be prepared for$4$ imputations.
235:080,15[C  ]| I do not mind them; I only care for$4$ one
235:080,16[C  ]| thing ~~ for$4$ your not having the shadow of a doubt.
235:080,17[C  ]| I do not care what people of whom I ask nothing
235:080,18[C  ]| think ~~ I am not even capable perhaps of wanting
235:080,19[C  ]| to$9$ know.  I have never so$5#2$ concerned myself, God forgive
235:080,20[C  ]| me, and why should I begin to-day, when I have
235:080,21[C  ]| taken to$4$ myself a compensation for$4$ everything?  I 
235:080,22[C  ]| will$1$ not pretend I am sorry you are rich; I am delighted.
235:080,23[C  ]| I delight in$4$ everything that$6#1$ is yours ~~ whether it
235:080,24[C  ]| be money or virtue.  Money is a horrid thing to$9$ follow,
235:080,25[C  ]| but a charming thing to$9$ meet.  It seems to$4$ me,
235:080,26[C  ]| however, that$3$ I have sufficiently proved the limits of my
235:080,27[C  ]| itch for$4$ it: I never in$4$ my life tried to$9$ earn a penny,
235:080,28[C  ]| and I ought to$9$ be less subject to$4$ suspicion than
235:080,29[C  ]| most of the people one sees grubbing and grabbing.
235:080,30[C  ]| I suppose it is their business to$9$ suspect ~~ that$6#2$ of 
235:080,31[C  ]| your family; it is proper on$4$ the whole they should.
235:080,32[C  ]| They will$1$ like$1$ me better some day; so$5#2$ will$1$ you, for$4$ that$6#2$
235:081,01[C  ]| matter.  Meanwhile my business is not to$9$ make myself
235:081,02[C  ]| bad blood, but simply to$9$ be thankful for$4$ life
235:081,03[C  ]| and love." "It has made me better, loving you," 
235:081,03['  ]| he
235:081,04['  ]| said on$4$ another occasion; 
235:084,04[C  ]| "it has made me wiser and 
235:081,05[C  ]| easier and ~~ I will$1$ not pretend to$9$ deny ~~ brighter
235:081,06[C  ]| and nicer and even stronger.  I used to$9$ want a great
235:081,07[C  ]| many things before and to$9$ be angry I did not have 
235:081,08[C  ]| them. Theoretically I was satisfied, as I once told
235:081,09[C  ]| you.  I flattered myself I had limited my wants.
235:081,10[C  ]| But I was subject to$4$ irritation; I used to$9$ have morbid, 
235:081,11[C  ]| sterile, hateful fits of hunger, of desire.  Now
235:081,12[C  ]| I am really satisfied, because I can not think of anything 
235:081,13[C  ]| better.  It is just as when one has been trying
235:081,14[C  ]| to$9$ spell out a book in$4$ the twilight and suddenly the 
235:081,15[C  ]| lamp comes in$5$.  I had been putting out my eyes
235:081,16[C  ]| over the book of life and finding nothing to$9$ reward
235:081,17[C  ]| me for$4$ my pains; but now that$3$ I can read it properly
235:081,18[C  ]| I see it is a delightful story.  My dear girl, I can not
235:081,19[C  ]| tell you how life seems to$9$ stretch there before us ~~
235:081,20[C  ]| what a long summer afternoon awaits us.  It is the 
235:081,21[C  ]| latter half of an Italian day ~~ with a golden haze,
235:081,22[C  ]| and the shadows just lengthening, and that$6#2$ divine
235:081,23[C  ]| delicacy in$4$ the light, the air, the landscape, which$6#1$ 
235:081,24[C  ]| I have loved all my life and which$6#1$ you love to-day.
235:081,25[C  ]| Upon$4$ my honour, I do not see why we should not get 
235:081,26[C  ]| on$5$.  We have got what we like$1$ ~~ to$9$ say nothing of 
235:081,27[C  ]| having each other.  We have the faculty of admiration
235:081,28[C  ]| and several capital convictions.  We are not stupid,
235:081,29[C  ]| we are not mean, we are not under bonds to$4$ any 
235:081,30[C  ]| kind of ignorance or dreariness.  You are remarkably
235:081,31[C  ]| fresh, and I am remarkably well-seasoned.  We have
235:081,32[C  ]| my poor child to$9$ amuse us; we will$1$ try and make up$5$
235:082,01[C  ]| some little life for$4$ her.  It is all soft and mellow ~~ it
235:082,02[C  ]| has the Italian colouring."
235:082,03['  ]| They made a good many plans, but they left themselves 
235:082,04['  ]| also a good deal of latitude; 
235:082,04@x   | it was a matter
235:082,05@x   | of course, however, that$3$ they should live for$4$ the 
235:082,06@x   | present in$4$ Italy.  It was in$4$ Italy that$3$ they had met,
235:082,07@x   | Italy had been a party to$4$ their first impressions of 
235:082,08@x   | each other, and Italy should be a party to$4$ their happiness.
235:082,09['  ]| Osmond had the attachment of old acquaintance
235:082,10['  ]| and Isabel the stimulus of new, which$6#1$ seemed
235:082,11['  ]| to$9$ assure her a future at a high level of consciousness
235:082,12['  ]| of the beautiful.  The desire for$4$ unlimited expansion
235:082,13['  ]| had been succeeded in$4$ her soul by$4$ the sense that$3$ life 
235:082,14['  ]| was vacant without some private duty that$6#1$ might 
235:082,15['  ]| gather one's energies to$4$ a point.  She had told Ralph
235:082,16@a   | she had "seen life" in$4$ a year or two and that$3$ she
235:082,17@a   | was already tired, not of the act of living, but of that$6#2$ 
235:082,18@a   | of observing.  
235:082,18['  ]| What had become of all her ardours,
235:082,19['  ]| her aspirations, her theories, her high estimate of 
235:082,20['  ]| her independence and her incipient conviction that$3$ 
235:082,21['  ]| she should never marry?  These things had been 
235:082,22['  ]| absorbed in$4$ a more primitive need ~~ a need the 
235:082,23['  ]| answer to$4$ which$6#1$ brushed away numberless questions,
235:082,24['  ]| yet gratified infinite desires.  It simplified the situation
235:082,25['  ]| at a stroke, it came down from above like$4$ the light 
235:082,26['  ]| of the stars, and it needed no$2$ explanation.  
235:082,26@a   | There 
235:082,27@a   | was explanation enough in$4$ the fact that$3$ he was her
235:082,28@a   | lover, her own, and that$3$ she should be able to$9$ be 
235:082,29@a   | of use to$4$ him.  She could surrender to$4$ him with a 
235:082,30@a   | kind of humility, she could marry him with a kind 
235:082,31@a   | of pride; she was not only taking, she was giving.
235:082,32['  ]| He brought Pansy with him two or three times
235:083,01['  ]| to$4$ the Cascine ~~ Pansy who$6#1$ was very little taller
235:083,02['  ]| than a year before, and not much older.  That$3$ she 
235:083,03['  ]| would always be a child was the conviction expressed
235:083,04['  ]| by$4$ her father, who$6#1$ held her by$4$ the hand when she 
235:083,05['  ]| was in$4$ her sixteenth year and told her to$9$ 
235:083,05@c   | go and 
235:083,06@c   | play while he sat down a little with the pretty lady.
235:083,07['  ]| Pansy wore a short dress and a long coat; her hat 
235:083,08['  ]| always seemed too big for$4$ her.  She found pleasure 
235:083,09['  ]| in$4$ walking off, with quick, short steps, to$4$ the end
235:083,10['  ]| of the alley, and then in$4$ walking back with a smile
235:083,11['  ]| that$6#1$ seemed an appeal for$4$ approbation.  Isabel approved
235:083,12['  ]| in$4$ abundance, and the abundance had the 
235:083,13['  ]| personal touch that$6#1$ the child's affectionate nature
235:083,14['  ]| craved.  She watched her indications as if for$4$ herself
235:083,15['  ]| also much depended on$4$ them ~~ Pansy already
235:083,16['  ]| so$5#1$ represented part of the service she could render,
235:083,17['  ]| part of the responsibility she could face.  Her father
235:083,18['  ]| took so$5#1$ the childish view of her that$3$ he had not yet
235:083,19['  ]| explained to$4$ her the new relation in$4$ which$6#1$ he stood
235:083,20['  ]| to$4$ the elegant Miss*Archer.  
235:083,20[C  ]| "She does not know,"
235:083,21['  ]| he said to$4$ Isabel; 
235:083,21[C  ]| "she does not guess; she thinks
235:083,22[C  ]| it perfectly natural that$3$ you and I should come and
235:083,23[C  ]| walk here together simply as good friends.  There 
235:083,24[C  ]| seems to$4$ me something enchantingly innocent in$4$ that$6#2$;
235:083,25[C  ]| it is the way I like$1$ her to$9$ be.  No$7$, I am not a failure,
235:083,26[C  ]| as I used to$9$ think; I have succeeded in$4$ two things.
235:083,27[C  ]| I am to$9$ marry the woman I adore, and I have brought
235:083,28[C  ]| up$5$ my child, as I wished, in$4$ the old way."
235:083,29['  ]| He was very fond, in$4$ all things, of the "old way";
235:083,30['  ]| that$6#2$ had struck Isabel as one of his fine, quiet,
235:083,31['  ]| sincere notes.  
235:083,31[A  ]| "It occurs to$4$ me that$3$ you will$1$ not know
235:083,32[A  ]| whether you have succeeded until you have told her,"
235:084,01['  ]| she said.  
235:084,01[A  ]| "You must see how she takes your news.
235:084,02[A  ]| She may be horrified ~~ she may be jealous."
235:084,03[C  ]| "I am not afraid of that$6#2$; she is too fond of you 
235:084,04[C  ]| on$4$ her own account.  I should like$1$ to$9$ leave her in$4$ 
235:084,05[C  ]| the dark a little longer ~~ to$9$ see if it will$1$ come into 
235:084,06[C  ]| her head that$3$ if we are not engaged we ought to$9$ be."
235:084,07['  ]| Isabel was impressed by$4$ Osmond's artistic, the plastic
235:084,08['  ]| view, as it somehow appeared, of Pansy's innocence ~~ 
235:084,09['  ]| her own appreciation of it being more anxiously 
235:084,10['  ]| moral.  She was perhaps not the less pleased 
235:084,11['  ]| when he told her a few days later that$3$ he had 
235:084,12['  ]| communicated the fact to$4$ his daughter, who$6#1$ had
235:084,13['  ]| made such a pretty little speech ~~ 
235:084,13[K  ]| "Oh, then I 
235:084,14[K  ]| shall have a beautiful sister!"  
235:084,14@c   | She was neither surprised 
235:084,15@c   | nor alarmed; she had not cried, as he expected.
235:084,16@c   | 
235:084,17[A  ]| "Perhaps she had guessed it," 
235:084,17['  ]| said Isabel.
235:084,18[C  ]| "Do not say that$6#2$; I should be disgusted if I believed 
235:084,19[C  ]| that$6#2$.  I thought it would be just a little shock;
235:084,20[C  ]| but the way she took it proves that$3$ her good manners
235:084,21[C  ]| are paramount.  That$6#2$ is also what I wished.  You 
235:084,22[C  ]| shall see for$4$ yourself; to-morrow she shall make you 
235:084,23[C  ]| her congratulations in$4$ person."
235:084,24['  ]| The meeting, on$4$ the morrow, took place at the 
235:084,25['  ]| Countess*Gemini's, whither Pansy had been conducted 
235:084,26['  ]| by$4$ her father, who$6#1$ knew that$3$ Isabel was to$9$ 
235:084,27['  ]| come in$4$ the afternoon to$9$ return a visit made her by$4$ 
235:084,28['  ]| the Countess on$4$ learning that$3$ they were to$9$ become
235:084,29['  ]| sisters-in-law.  Calling at Casa*Touchett the visitor
235:084,30['  ]| had not found Isabel at home; but after our young 
235:084,31['  ]| woman had been ushered into the Countess's drawing-room
235:084,32['  ]| Pansy arrived to$9$ say that$3$ 
235:084,32@k   | her aunt would
235:085,01@k   | presently appear.  
235:085,01['  ]| Pansy was spending the day with 
235:085,02['  ]| that$6#2$ lady, who$6#1$ thought her 
235:085,02@j   | of an age to$9$ begin to$9$ learn
235:085,03@j   | how to$9$ carry herself in$4$ company.  
235:085,03['  ]| It was Isabel's view
235:085,04['  ]| that$3$ 
235:085,04@a   | the little girl might have given lessons in$4$ deportment 
235:085,05@a   | to$4$ her relative, 
235:085,05['  ]| and nothing could have justified
235:085,06['  ]| this conviction more than the manner in$4$ which$6#1$ Pansy 
235:085,07['  ]| acquitted herself while they waited together for$4$ the 
235:085,08['  ]| Countess.  Her father's decision, the year before, had
235:085,09['  ]| finally been to$9$ send her back to$4$ the convent to$9$ receive
235:085,10['  ]| the last graces, and Madame*Catherine had evidently
235:085,11['  ]| carried out her theory that$3$ Pansy was to$9$ be fitted
235:085,12['  ]| for$4$ the great world.
235:085,13[K  ]| "Papa has told me that$3$ you have kindly consented
235:085,14[K  ]| to$9$ marry him," 
235:085,14['  ]| said this excellent woman's pupil.
235:085,15[K  ]| "It is very delightful; I think you will$1$ suit very well."
235:085,16[A  ]| "You think I shall suit \you\?"
235:085,17[K  ]| "You will$1$ suit me beautifully; but what I mean is
235:085,18[K  ]| that$3$ you and papa will$1$ suit each other.  You are both
235:085,19[K  ]| so$5#1$ quiet and so$5#1$ serious.  You are not so$5#1$ quiet as he ~~
235:085,20[K  ]| or even as Madame*Merle; but you are more quiet 
235:085,21[K  ]| than many others.  He should not for$4$ instance have 
235:085,22[K  ]| a wife like$4$ my aunt.  She is always in$4$ motion, in$4$ agitation ~~
235:085,23[K  ]| to-day especially; you will$1$ see when she comes
235:085,24[K  ]| in$5$.  They told us at the convent it was wrong to$9$ judge 
235:085,25[K  ]| our elders, but I suppose there is no$2$ harm if we judge
235:085,26[K  ]| them favourably.  You will$1$ be a delightful companion
235:085,27[K  ]| for$4$ papa."
235:085,28[A  ]| "For$4$ you too, I hope," 
235:085,28['  ]| Isabel said.
235:085,29[K  ]| "I speak first of him on$4$ purpose.  I have told you 
235:085,30[K  ]| already what I myself think of you; I liked you from
235:085,31[K  ]| the first.  I admire you so$5#1$ much that$3$ I think it will$1$ be
235:085,32[K  ]| a good fortune to$9$ have you always before me. You will$1$
235:086,01[K  ]| be my model; I shall try to$9$ imitate you though I am
235:086,02[K  ]| afraid it will$1$ be very feeble.  I am very glad for$4$ papa
235:086,03[K  ]| ~~ he needed something more than me. Without you 
235:086,04[K  ]| I do not see how he could have got it.  You will$1$ be my 
235:086,05[K  ]| stepmother, but we must not use that$6#2$ word.  They are
235:086,06[K  ]| always said to$9$ be cruel; but I do not think you will$1$ ever 
235:086,07[K  ]| so$5#1$ much as pinch or even push me.  I am not afraid
235:086,08[K  ]| at all."
235:086,09[A  ]| "My good little Pansy," 
235:086,09['  ]| said Isabel gently, 
235:086,09[A  ]| "I shall
235:086,10[A  ]| be ever so$5#1$ kind to$4$ you."  
235:086,10['  ]| A vague, inconsequent vision
235:086,11['  ]| of her coming in$4$ some odd way to$9$ need it had intervened 
235:086,12['  ]| with the effect of a chill.
235:086,13[K  ]| "Very well then, I have nothing to$9$ fear," 
235:086,13['  ]| the child
235:086,14['  ]| returned with her note of prepared promptitude.
235:086,15['  ]| What teaching she had had, it seemed to$9$ suggest ~~
235:086,16['  ]| or what penalties for$4$ non-performance she dreaded!
235:086,17['  ]| Her description of her aunt had not been incorrect;
235:086,18['  ]| the Countess*Gemini was further than ever from 
235:086,19['  ]| having folded her wings.  She entered the room with 
235:086,20['  ]| a flutter through the air and kissed Isabel first on$4$ the 
235:086,21['  ]| forehead and then on$4$ each cheek as if according to$4$ 
235:086,22['  ]| some ancient prescribed rite.  She drew the visitor to$4$ 
235:086,23['  ]| a sofa and, looking at her with a variety of turns of 
235:086,24['  ]| the head, began to$9$ talk very much as if, seated brush
235:086,25['  ]| in$4$ hand before an easel, she were applying a series
235:086,26['  ]| of considered touches to$4$ a composition of figures already 
235:086,27['  ]| sketched in$5$.  
235:086,27[J  ]| "If you expect me to$9$ congratulate
235:086,28[J  ]| you I must beg you to$9$ excuse me.  I do not suppose
235:086,29[J  ]| you care if I do or not; I believe you are supposed not
235:086,30[J  ]| to$9$ care ~~ through being so$5#1$ clever ~~ for$4$ all sorts of 
235:086,31[J  ]| ordinary things.  But I care myself if I tell fibs; I 
235:086,32[J  ]| never tell them unless there is something rather good 
235:087,01[J  ]| to$9$ be gained. I do not see what is to$9$ be gained with you 
235:087,02[J  ]| ~~ especially as you would not believe me.  I do not
235:087,03[J  ]| make professions any more than I make paper flowers
235:087,04[J  ]| or flouncey lampshades ~~ I do not know how.  My 
235:087,05[J  ]| lampshades would be sure to$9$ take fire, my roses and 
235:087,06[J  ]| my fibs to$9$ be larger than life.  I am very glad for$4$ my
235:087,07[J  ]| own sake that$3$ you are to$9$ marry Osmond; but I will$1$ not
235:087,08[J  ]| pretend I am glad for$4$ yours.  You are very brilliant ~~
235:087,09[J  ]| you know that$6#2$ is the way you are always spoken of;
235:087,10[J  ]| you are an heiress and very good-looking and original,
235:087,11[J  ]| not \9banal\; so$3$ it is a good thing to$9$ have you in$4$ the 
235:087,12[J  ]| family.  Our family is very good, you know; Osmond
235:087,13[J  ]| will$1$ have told you that$6#2$; and my mother was rather
235:087,14[J  ]| distinguished ~~ she was called the American*Corinne.
235:087,15[J  ]| But we are dreadfully fallen, I think, and perhaps
235:087,16[J  ]| you will$1$ pick us up$5$.  I have great confidence in$4$ you; there
235:087,17[J  ]| are ever so$5#1$ many things I want to$9$ talk to$4$ you about.
235:087,18[J  ]| I never congratulate any girl on$4$ marrying; I think
235:087,19[J  ]| they ought to$9$ make it somehow not quite so$5#1$ awful a
235:087,20[J  ]| steel trap.  I suppose Pansy ought not to$9$ hear all this; 
235:087,21[J  ]| but that$6#2$ is what she has come to$4$ me for$4$ ~~ to$9$ acquire 
235:087,22[J  ]| the tone of society.  There is no$2$ harm in$4$ her knowing
235:087,23[J  ]| what horrors she may be in$5$ for$4$.  When first I got an 
235:087,24[J  ]| idea that$3$ my brother had designs on$4$ you I thought
235:087,25[J  ]| of writing to$4$ you, to$9$ recommend you, in$4$ the strongest
235:087,26[J  ]| terms, not to$9$ listen to$4$ him.  Then I thought it would
235:087,27[J  ]| be disloyal, and I hate anything of that$6#2$ kind.  Besides,
235:087,28[J  ]| as I say, I was enchanted for$4$ myself; and after 
235:087,29[J  ]| all I am very selfish.  By$4$ the way, you will$1$ not respect
235:087,30[J  ]| me, not one little mite, and we shall never be intimate.
235:087,31[J  ]| I should like$1$ it, but you will$1$ not.  Some day, all the 
235:087,32[J  ]| same, we shall be better friends than you will$1$ believe
235:088,01[J  ]| at first.  My husband will$1$ come and see you, though,
235:088,02[J  ]| as you probably know, he is on$4$ no$2$ sort of terms with 
235:088,03[J  ]| Osmond.  He is very fond of going to$9$ see pretty women,
235:088,04[J  ]| but I am not afraid of you.  In$4$ the first place I 
235:088,05[J  ]| do not care what he does.  In$4$ the second, you will$1$ not
235:088,06[J  ]| care a straw for$4$ him; he will$1$ not be a bit, at any time,
235:088,07[J  ]| your affair, and, stupid as he is, he will$1$ see you are not
235:088,08[J  ]| his.  Some day, if you can stand it, I will$1$ tell you all 
235:088,09[J  ]| about him.  Do you think my niece ought to$9$ go out 
235:088,10[J  ]| of the room?  Pansy, go and practise a little in$4$ my
235:088,11[J  ]| boudoir."
235:088,12[A  ]| "Let her stay, please," 
235:088,12['  ]| said Isabel.  
235:088,12[A  ]| "I would
235:088,13[A  ]| rather hear nothing that$6#1$ Pansy may not!"
236:089,01['  ]| One afternoon of the autumn of 1876, toward dusk,
236:089,02['  ]| a young man of pleasing appearance rang at the 
236:089,03['  ]| door of a small apartment on$4$ the third floor of an old
236:089,04['  ]| Roman house.  On$4$ its being opened he enquired
236:089,05['  ]| for$4$ Madame*Merle; whereupon the servant, a neat,
236:089,06['  ]| plain woman, with a French face and a lady's maid's
236:089,07['  ]| manner, ushered him into a diminutive drawing-room
236:089,08['  ]| and requested the favour of his name.  
236:089,08[L  ]| "Mr%*Edward*Rosier," 
236:089,09['  ]| said the young man, who$6#1$ sat down to$9$ wait 
236:089,10['  ]| till his hostess should appear.
236:089,11['  ]| The reader will$1$ perhaps not have forgotten that$3$ 
236:089,12['  ]| Mr%*Rosier was an ornament of the American circle
236:089,13['  ]| in$4$ Paris, but it may also be remembered that$3$ he sometimes 
236:089,14['  ]| vanished from its horizon.  He had spent a portion 
236:089,15['  ]| of several winters at Pau, and as he was a gentleman 
236:089,16['  ]| of constituted habits he might have continued 
236:089,17['  ]| for$4$ years to$9$ pay his annual visit to$4$ this charming resort.
236:089,18['  ]| In$4$ the summer of 1876, however, an incident
236:089,19['  ]| befell him which$6#1$ changed the current not only of his
236:089,20['  ]| thoughts, but of his customary sequences.  He passed 
236:089,21['  ]| a month in$4$ the Upper*Engadine and encountered at 
236:089,22['  ]| Saint*Moritz a charming young girl.  To$4$ this little person
236:089,23['  ]| he began to$9$ pay, on$4$ the spot, particular attention:
236:089,24@l   | she struck him as exactly the household angel he had
236:089,25@l   | long been looking for$4$.  
236:089,25['  ]| He was never precipitate, he
236:089,26['  ]| was nothing if not discreet, so$3$ he forbore for$4$ the 
236:089,27['  ]| present to$9$ declare his passion; but it seemed to$4$ him
236:090,01['  ]| when they parted ~~ the young lady to$9$ go down into 
236:090,02['  ]| Italy and her admirer to$9$ proceed to$4$ Geneva, where 
236:090,03['  ]| he was under bonds to$9$ join other friends ~~ that$3$ 
236:090,03@l   | he 
236:090,04@l   | should be romantically wretched if he were not to$9$ 
236:090,05@l   | see her again.  
236:090,05['  ]| The simplest way to$9$ do so$5#2$ was to$9$ go 
236:090,06['  ]| in$4$ the autumn to$4$ Rome, where Miss*Osmond was
236:090,07['  ]| domiciled with her family.  Mr%*Rosier started on$4$ 
236:090,08['  ]| his pilgrimage to$4$ the Italian capital and reached it
236:090,09['  ]| on$4$ the first of November.  It was a pleasant thing to$9$ 
236:090,10['  ]| do, but for$4$ the young man there was a strain of the 
236:090,11['  ]| heroic in$4$ the enterprise.  He might expose himself,
236:090,12['  ]| unseasoned, to$4$ the poison of the Roman air, which$6#1$ 
236:090,13['  ]| in$4$ November lay, notoriously, much in$4$ wait.  Fortune,
236:090,14['  ]| however, favours the brave; and this adventurer, 
236:090,15['  ]| who$6#1$ took three grains of quinine a day, had
236:090,16['  ]| at the end of a month no$2$ cause to$9$ deplore his temerity.
236:090,17['  ]| He had made to$4$ a certain extent good use of his 
236:090,18['  ]| time; he had devoted it in$4$ vain to$4$ finding a flaw in$4$ 
236:090,19['  ]| Pansy*Osmond's composition.  
236:090,19@l   | She was admirably
236:090,20@l   | finished; she had had the last touch; she was really 
236:090,21@l   | a consummate piece.  
236:090,21['  ]| He thought of her in$4$ amorous
236:090,22['  ]| meditation a good deal as he might have thought of 
236:090,23['  ]| a Dresden-china shepherdess.  Miss*Osmond, indeed, 
236:090,24['  ]| in$4$ the bloom of her juvenility, had a hint of the 
236:090,25['  ]| rococo which$6#1$ Rosier, whose taste was predominantly 
236:090,26['  ]| for$4$ that$6#2$ manner, could not fail to$9$ appreciate.
236:090,27['  ]| That$3$ he esteemed the productions of comparatively
236:090,28['  ]| frivolous periods would have been apparent from 
236:090,29['  ]| the attention he bestowed upon$4$ Madame*Merles's
236:090,30['  ]| drawing-room, which$6#1$, although furnished with specimens
236:090,31['  ]| of every style, was especially rich in$4$ articles
236:090,32['  ]| of the last two centuries.  He had immediately put
236:091,01['  ]| a glass into one eye and looked round; and then 
236:091,02[L  ]| "By$4$ Jove, she has some jolly good things!" 
236:091,02['  ]| he had 
236:091,03['  ]| yearningly murmured.  The room was small and 
236:091,04['  ]| densely filled with furniture; it gave an impression
236:091,05['  ]| of faded silk and little statuettes which$6#1$ might totter
236:091,06['  ]| if one moved.  Rosier got up$5$ and wandered about
236:091,07['  ]| with his careful tread, bending over the tables
236:091,08['  ]| charged with knick-knacks and the cushions embossed 
236:091,09['  ]| with princely arms.  When Madame*Merle 
236:091,10['  ]| came in$5$ she found him standing before the fireplace
236:091,11['  ]| with his nose very close to$4$ the great lace
236:091,12['  ]| flounce attached to$4$ the damask cover of the mantel.
236:091,13['  ]| He had lifted it delicately, as if he were smelling 
236:091,14['  ]| it.
236:091,15[H  ]| "It is old Venetian,"
236:091,15['  ]| she said; 
236:091,15[H  ]| "it is rather good."
236:091,16[L  ]| "It is too good for$4$ this; you ought to$9$ wear it."
236:091,17[H  ]| "They tell me you have some better in$4$ Paris, in$4$ 
236:091,18[H  ]| the same situation."
236:091,19[L  ]| "Ah, but I can not wear mine," 
236:091,19['  ]| smiled the visitor.
236:091,20[H  ]| "I do not see why you should not!  I have better lace
236:091,21[H  ]| than that$6#2$ to$9$ wear."
236:091,22['  ]| His eyes wandered, lingeringly, round the room
236:091,23['  ]| again. 
236:091,23[L  ]| "You have some very good things."
236:091,24[H  ]| "Yes, but I hate them."
236:091,25[L  ]| "Do you want to$9$ get rid of them?" 
236:091,25['  ]| the young
236:091,26['  ]| man quickly asked.
236:091,27[H  ]| "No$7$, it is good to$9$ have something to$9$ hate: one 
236:091,28[H  ]| works it off!"
236:091,29[L  ]| "I love my things," 
236:091,29['  ]| said Mr%*Rosier as he sat 
236:091,30['  ]| there flushed with all his recognitions.  
236:091,30[L  ]| "But it is not
236:091,31[L  ]| about them, nor about yours, that$3$ I came to$9$ talk to$4$
236:091,32[L  ]| you."  
236:091,31['  ]| He paused a moment and then, with greater
236:092,01['  ]| softness:
236:092,01[L  ]| "I care more for$4$ Miss*Osmond than for$4$ 
236:092,02[L  ]| all the \9bibelots\ in$4$ Europe!"
236:092,03['  ]| Madame*Merle opened wide eyes. 
236:092,03[H  ]| "Did you come
236:092,04[H  ]| to$9$ tell me that$6#2$?"
236:092,05[L  ]| "I came to$9$ ask your advice."
236:092,06['  ]| She looked at him with a friendly frown, stroking
236:092,07['  ]| her chin with her large white hand. 
236:092,07[H  ]| "A man in$4$ love,
236:092,08[H  ]| you know, does not ask advice."
236:092,09[L  ]| "Why not, if he is in$4$ a difficult position?  That$6#2$ is
236:092,10[L  ]| often the case with a man in$4$ love.  I have been in$4$ love 
236:092,11[L  ]| before, and I know.  But never so$5#1$ much as this
236:092,12[L  ]| time ~~ really never so$5#1$ much.  I should like$1$ particularly 
236:092,13[L  ]| to$9$ know what you think of my prospects.  I am
236:092,14[L  ]| afraid that$3$ for$4$ Mr%*Osmond I am not ~~ well, a real 
236:092,15[L  ]| collector's piece."
236:092,16[H  ]| "Do you wish me to$9$ intercede?"
236:092,16['  ]| Madame*Merle
236:092,17['  ]| asked with her fine arms folded and her handsome
236:092,18['  ]| mouth drawn up$5$ to$4$ the left.
236:092,19[L  ]| "If you could say a good word for$4$ me I should
236:092,20[L  ]| be greatly obliged.  There will$1$ be no$2$ use in$4$ my troubling
236:092,21[L  ]| Miss*Osmond unless I have good reason to$9$ believe 
236:092,22[L  ]| her father will$1$ consent."
236:092,23[H  ]| "You are very considerate; that$6#2$ is in$4$ your favour.
236:092,24[H  ]| But you assume in$4$ rather an off-hand way that$3$ \I\
236:092,25[H  ]| think you a prize."
236:092,26[L  ]| "You have been very kind to$4$ me," 
236:092,26['  ]| said the young 
236:092,27['  ]| man. 
236:092,27[L  ]| "That$6#2$ is why I came."
236:092,28[H  ]| "I am always kind to$4$ people who$6#1$ have good 
236:092,29[H  ]| Louis*Quatorze.  It is very rare now, and there is no$2$
236:092,30[H  ]| telling what one may get by$4$ it." 
236:092,30['  ]| With which$6#1$ the 
236:092,31['  ]| left-hand corner of Madame*Merle's mouth gave 
236:092,32['  ]| expression to$4$ the joke.
236:093,01['  ]| But he looked, in$4$ spite of it, literally apprehensive
236:093,02['  ]| and consistently strenuous. 
236:093,02[L  ]| "Ah, I thought you 
236:093,03[L  ]| liked me for$4$ myself!"
236:093,04[H  ]| "I like$1$ you very much; but, if you please, we
236:093,05[H  ]| will$1$ not analyse.  Pardon me if I seem patronising,
236:093,06[H  ]| but I think you a perfect little gentleman.  I must
236:093,07[H  ]| tell you, however, that$3$ I have not the marrying of
236:093,08[H  ]| Pansy*Osmond."
236:093,09[L  ]| "I did not suppose that$6#2$.  But you have seemed to$4$ me
236:093,10[L  ]| intimate with her family, and I thought you might 
236:093,11[L  ]| have influence."
236:093,12['  ]| Madame*Merle considered. 
236:093,12[H  ]| "Whom do you call
236:093,13[H  ]| her family?"
236:093,14[L  ]| "Why, her father; and ~~ how do you say it in$4$ 
236:093,15[L  ]| English? ~~ her \9belle-me`re\."
236:093,16[H  ]| "Mr%*Osmond is her father, certainly; but his
236:093,17[H  ]| wife can scarcely be termed a member of her family.
236:093,18[H  ]| Mrs%*Osmond has nothing to$9$ do with marrying
236:093,19[H  ]| her."
236:093,20[L  ]| "I am sorry for$4$ that$6#2$," 
236:093,20['  ]| said Rosier with an amiable
236:093,21['  ]| sigh of good faith. 
236:093,21[L  ]| "I think Mrs%*Osmond would
236:093,22[L  ]| favour me."
236:093,23[H  ]| "Very likely ~~ if her husband does not."
236:093,24['  ]| He raised his eyebrows. 
236:093,24[L  ]| "Does she take the opposite 
236:093,25[L  ]| line from him?"
236:093,26[H  ]| "In$4$ everything.  They think quite differently."
236:093,27[L  ]| "Well," 
236:093,27['  ]| said Rosier, 
236:093,27[L  ]| "I am sorry for$4$ that$6#2$; but it is
236:093,28[L  ]| none of my business.  She is very fond of Pansy."
236:093,29[H  ]| "Yes, she is very fond of Pansy."
236:093,30[L  ]| "And Pansy has a great affection for$4$ her.  She
236:093,31[L  ]| has told me how she loves her as if she were her own
236:093,32[L  ]| mother."
236:094,01[H  ]| "You must, after all, have had some very intimate
236:094,02[H  ]| talk with the poor child,"
236:094,02['  ]| said Madame*Merle.
236:094,03[H  ]| "Have you declared your sentiments?"
236:094,04[L  ]| "Never!" 
236:094,04['  ]| cried Rosier, lifting his neatly-gloved
236:094,05['  ]| hand. 
236:094,05[L  ]| "Never till I have assured myself of those of the 
236:094,06[L  ]| parents."
236:094,07[H  ]| "You always wait for$4$ that$6#2$?  You have excellent
236:094,08[H  ]| principles; you observe the proprieties."
236:094,09[L  ]| "I think you are laughing at me," 
236:094,09['  ]| the young man 
236:094,10['  ]| murmured, dropping back in$4$ his chair and feeling
236:094,11['  ]| his small moustache.  
236:094,11[L  ]| "I did not expect that$6#2$ of you,
236:094,12[L  ]| Madame*Merle."
236:094,13['  ]| She shook her head calmly, like$4$ a person who$6#1$ 
236:094,14['  ]| saw things as she saw them. 
236:094,14[H  ]| "You do not do me 
236:094,15[H  ]| justice.  I think your conduct in$4$ excellent taste
236:094,16[H  ]| and the best you could adopt.  Yes, that$6#2$ is what I 
236:094,17[H  ]| think."
236:094,18[L  ]| "I would not agitate her ~~ only to$9$ agitate her; I 
236:094,19[L  ]| love her too much for$4$ that$6#2$," 
236:094,19['  ]| said Ned*Rosier.
236:094,20[H  ]| "I am glad, after all, that$3$ you have told me,"
236:094,20['  ]| Madame*Merle
236:094,21['  ]| went on$5$.  
236:094,21[H  ]| "Leave it to$4$ me a little; I 
236:094,22[H  ]| think I can help you."
236:094,23[L  ]| "I said you were the person to$9$ come to$4$!" 
236:094,23['  ]| her 
236:094,24['  ]| visitor cried with prompt elation.
236:094,25[H  ]| "You were very clever,"
236:094,25['  ]| Madame*Merle returned
236:094,26['  ]| more dryly.  
236:094,26[H  ]| "When I say I can help you I mean
236:094,27[H  ]| once assuming your cause to$9$ be good.  Let us think
236:094,28[H  ]| a little if it is."
236:094,29[L  ]| "I am awfully decent, you know," 
236:094,29['  ]| said Rosier
236:094,30['  ]| earnestly. 
236:094,30[L  ]| "I will$1$ not say I have no$2$ faults, but I will$1$ say
236:094,31[L  ]| I have no$2$ vices."
236:094,32[H  ]| "All that$6#2$ is negative, and it always depends, also,
236:095,01[H  ]| on$4$ what people call vices.  What is the positive side?
236:095,02[H  ]| What is the virtuous?  What have you got besides
236:095,03[H  ]| your Spanish lace and your Dresden teacups?"
236:095,04[L  ]| "I have a comfortable little fortune ~~ about forty
236:095,05[L  ]| thousand francs a year.  With the talent I have for$4$ 
236:095,06[L  ]| arranging, we can live beautifully on$4$ such an income."
236:095,07[L  ]| 
236:095,08[H  ]| "Beautifully, no$7$.  Sufficiently, yes.  Even that$6#2$ depends 
236:095,09[H  ]| on$4$ where you live."
236:095,10[L  ]| "Well, in$4$ Paris. I would undertake it in$4$ Paris."
236:095,11['  ]| Madame*Merle's mouth rose to$4$ the left. 
236:095,11[H  ]| "It
236:095,12[H  ]| would not be famous; you would have to$9$ make use of the 
236:095,13[H  ]| teacups, and they would get broken."
236:095,14[L  ]| "We do not want to$9$ be famous.  If Miss*Osmond
236:095,15[L  ]| should have everything pretty it would be enough.
236:095,16[L  ]| When one is as pretty as she one can afford ~~ well,
236:095,17[L  ]| quite cheap \9faience\.  She ought never to$9$ wear anything
236:095,18[L  ]| but muslin ~~ without the sprig," 
236:095,18['  ]| said Rosier
236:095,19['  ]| reflectively.
236:095,20[H  ]| "Would not you even allow her the sprig?  She would
236:095,21[H  ]| be much obliged to$4$ you at any rate for$4$ that$6#2$ theory."
236:095,22[L  ]| "It is the correct one, I assure you; and I am sure 
236:095,23[L  ]| she would enter into it.  She understands all that$6#2$; that$6#2$ is
236:095,24[L  ]| why I love her."
236:095,25[H  ]| "She is a very good little girl, and most tidy ~~ 
236:095,26[H  ]| also extremely graceful.  But her father, to$4$ the best 
236:095,27[H  ]| of my belief, can give her nothing."
236:095,28['  ]| Rosier scarce demurred. 
236:095,28[L  ]| "I do not in$4$ the least
236:095,29[L  ]| desire that$3$ he should.  But I may remark, all the 
236:095,30[L  ]| same, that$3$ he lives like$4$ a rich man."
236:095,31[H  ]| "The money is his wife's; she brought him a 
236:095,32[H  ]| large fortune."
236:096,01[L  ]| "Mrs%*Osmond then is very fond of her step-daughter;
236:096,02[L  ]| she may do something."
236:096,03[H  ]| "For$4$ a love-sick swain you have your eyes about 
236:096,04[H  ]| you!"
236:096,04['  ]| Madame*Merle exclaimed with a laugh.
236:096,05[L  ]| "I esteem a \dot\ very much.  I can do without it,
236:096,06[L  ]| but I esteem it."
236:096,07[H  ]| "Mrs%*Osmond,"
236:096,07['  ]| Madame*Merle went on$5$, 
236:096,07[H  ]| "will$1$
236:096,08[H  ]| probably prefer to$9$ keep her money for$4$ her own children."
236:096,09[H  ]| 
236:096,10[L  ]| "Her own children?  Surely she has none.'
236:096,11[H  ]| "She may have yet.  She had a poor little boy 
236:096,12[H  ]| who$6#1$ died two years ago, six months after his birth.
236:096,13[H  ]| Others therefore may come."
236:096,14[L  ]| "I hope they will$1$, if it will$1$ make her happy.  She is
236:096,15[L  ]| a splendid woman."
236:096,16['  ]| Madame*Merle failed to$9$ burst into speech. 
236:096,16[H  ]| "Ah,
236:096,17[H  ]| about her there is much to$9$ be said.  Splendid as you 
236:096,18[H  ]| like$1$!  We have not exactly made out that$3$ you are a 
236:096,19[H  ]| \9parti\.  The absence of vices is hardly a source of income."
236:096,20[H  ]| 
236:096,21[L  ]| "Pardon me, I think it may be," 
236:096,21['  ]| said Rosier quite 
236:096,22['  ]| lucidly.
236:096,23[H  ]| "You will$1$ be a touching couple, living on$4$ your innocence!"
236:096,24[H  ]| 
236:096,25[L  ]| "I think you underrate me."
236:096,26[H  ]| "You are not so$5#1$ innocent as that$6#2$?  Seriously,"
236:096,27['  ]| said Madame*Merle,
236:096,27[H  ]| "of course forty thousand francs
236:096,28[H  ]| a year and a nice character are a combination to$9$ be
236:096,29[H  ]| considered.  I do not say it is to$9$ be jumped at, but there 
236:096,30[H  ]| might be a worse offer.  Mr%*Osmond, however, will$1$
236:096,31[H  ]| probably incline to$9$ believe he can do better."
236:096,32[L  ]| "\He\ can do so$5#2$ perhaps; but what can his daughter
236:097,01[L  ]| do?  She can not do better than marry the man she loves.
236:097,02[L  ]| For$3$ she does, you know," 
236:097,02['  ]| Rosier added eagerly.
236:097,03[H  ]| "She does ~~ I know it."
236:097,04[L  ]| "Ah," 
236:097,04['  ]| cried the young man, 
236:097,04[L  ]| "I said you were the 
236:097,05[L  ]| person to$9$ come to$4$."
236:097,06[H  ]| "But I do not know how \you\ know it, if you have not
236:097,07[H  ]| asked her,"
236:097,07['  ]| Madame*Merle went on$5$.
236:097,08[L  ]| "In$4$ such a case there is no$2$ need of asking and telling; 
236:097,09[L  ]| as you say, we are an innocent couple.  How did
236:097,10[L  ]| \you\ know it?"
236:097,11[H  ]| "I who$6#1$ am not innocent?  By$4$ being very crafty.
236:097,12[H  ]| Leave it to$4$ me; I will$1$ find out for$4$ you."
236:097,13['  ]| Rosier got up$5$ and stood smoothing his hat. 
236:097,13[L  ]| "You
236:097,14[L  ]| say that$6#2$ rather coldly.  Do not simply find out how it
236:097,15[L  ]| is, but try to$9$ make it as it should be."
236:097,16[H  ]| "I will$1$ do my best.  I will$1$ try to$9$ make the most of your 
236:097,17[H  ]| advantages."
236:097,18[L  ]| "Thank you so$5#1$ very much.  Meanwhile then I will$1$
236:097,19[L  ]| say a word to$4$ Mrs%*Osmond."
236:097,20[H  ]| "\9Gardez-vous-en*bien\!" 
236:097,20['  ]| And Madame*Merle was 
236:097,21[L  ]| on$4$ her feet.  
236:097,21[H  ]| "Do not set her going, or you will$1$ spoil
236:097,22[H  ]| everything."
236:097,23['  ]| Rosier gazed into his hat; he wondered whether
236:097,24@l   | his hostess \had\ been after all the right person to$9$ come
236:097,25@l   | to$4$. 
236:097,25[L  ]| "I do not think I understand you.  I am an old
236:097,26[L  ]| friend of Mrs%*Osmond, and I think she would like$1$
236:097,27[L  ]| me to$9$ succeed."
236:097,28[H  ]| "Be an old friend as much as you like$1$; the more
236:097,29[H  ]| old friends she has the better, for$3$ she does not get on$5$
236:097,30[H  ]| very well with some of her new.  But do not for$4$ the 
236:097,31[H  ]| present try to$9$ make her take up$5$ the cudgels for$4$ you.
236:097,32[H  ]| Her husband may have other views, and as a person
236:098,01[H  ]| who$6#1$ wishes her well, I advise you not to$9$ multiply
236:098,02[H  ]| points of difference between them."
236:098,03['  ]| Poor Rosier's face assumed an expression of alarm;
236:098,04['  ]| a suit for$4$ the hand of Pansy*Osmond was even a 
236:098,05['  ]| more complicated business than his taste for$4$ proper
236:098,06['  ]| transitions had allowed.  But the extreme good sense
236:098,07['  ]| which$6#1$ he concealed under a surface suggesting that$6#2$ 
236:098,08['  ]| of a careful owner's "best set" came to$4$ his assistance.
236:098,09[L  ]| "I do not see that$3$ I am bound to$9$ consider Mr%*Osmond 
236:098,10[L  ]| so$5#1$ very much!" 
236:098,10['  ]| he exclaimed.
236:098,11[H  ]| "No$7$, but you should consider \her\.  You say you are 
236:098,12[H  ]| an old friend.  Would you make her suffer?"
236:098,13[L  ]| "Not for$4$ the world."
236:098,14[H  ]| "Then be very careful, and let the matter alone
236:098,15[H  ]| till I have taken a few soundings."
236:098,16[L  ]| "Let the matter alone, dear Madame*Merle?  Remember
236:098,17[L  ]| that$3$ I am in$4$ love."
236:098,18[H  ]| "Oh, you will$1$ not burn up$5$!  Why did you come to$4$ 
236:098,19[H  ]| me, if you are not to$9$ heed what I say?"
236:098,20[L  ]| "You are very kind; I will$1$ be very good," 
236:098,20['  ]| the young
236:098,21['  ]| man promised. 
236:098,21[L  ]| "But I am afraid Mr%*Osmond is 
236:098,22[L  ]| pretty hard," 
236:098,22['  ]| he added in$4$ his mild voice as he went
236:098,23['  ]| to$4$ the door.
236:098,24['  ]| Madame*Merle gave a short laugh.
236:098,24[H  ]| "It has been 
236:098,25[H  ]| said before.  But his wife is not easy either."
236:098,26[L  ]| "Ah, she is a splendid woman!" 
236:098,26['  ]| Ned*Rosier repeated, 
236:098,27['  ]| for$4$ departure.
236:098,28['  ]| He resolved that$3$ his conduct should be worthy of 
236:098,29['  ]| an aspirant who$6#1$ was already a model of discretion;
236:098,30['  ]| but he saw nothing in$4$ any pledge he had given
236:098,31['  ]| Madame*Merle that$6#1$ made it improper he should
236:098,32['  ]| keep himself in$4$ spirits by$4$ an occasional visit to$4$ Miss*Osmond's
236:099,01['  ]| home.  He reflected constantly on$4$ what 
236:099,02['  ]| his adviser had said to$4$ him, and turned over in$4$ his
236:099,03['  ]| mind the impression of her rather circumspect tone.
236:099,04['  ]| He had gone to$4$ her \9de*confiance\, as they put it in$4$ 
236:099,05['  ]| Paris; but it was possible he had been precipitate.
236:099,06['  ]| He found difficulty in$4$ thinking of himself as rash ~~
236:099,07['  ]| he had incurred this reproach so$5#1$ rarely; 
236:099,07@l   | but it certainly
236:099,08@l   | was true that$3$ he had known Madame*Merle
236:099,09@l   | only for$4$ the last month, and that$3$ his thinking her a
236:099,10@l   | delightful woman was not, when one came to$9$ look
236:099,11@l   | into it, a reason for$4$ assuming that$3$ she would be eager
236:099,12@l   | to$9$ push Pansy*Osmond into his arms, gracefully arranged
236:099,13@l   | as these members might be to$9$ receive her.
236:099,14@l   | She had indeed shown him benevolence, and she was a 
236:099,15@l   | person of consideration among the girl's people, where 
236:099,16@l   | she had a rather striking appearance 
236:099,16['  ]| (Rosier had 
236:099,17['  ]| more than once wondered how she managed it) 
236:099,17@l   | of 
236:099,18@l   | being intimate without being familiar.  But possibly
236:099,19@l   | he had exaggerated these advantages.  There was 
236:099,20@l   | no$2$ particular reason why she should take trouble for$4$ 
236:099,21@l   | him; a charming woman was charming to$4$ everyone, 
236:099,22['  ]| and Rosier felt rather a fool when he thought of his
236:099,23['  ]| having appealed to$4$ her on$4$ the ground that$3$ she had
236:099,24['  ]| distinguished him.  
236:099,24@l   | Very likely ~~ though she had
236:099,25@l   | appeared to$9$ say it in$4$ joke ~~ she was really only thinking 
236:099,26@l   | of his \9bibelots\.  Had it come into her head that$3$ he
236:099,27@l   | might offer her two or three of the gems of his collection?
236:099,28@l   | If she would only help him to$9$ marry Miss*Osmond
236:099,29@l   | he would present her with his whole museum.  
236:099,30@l   | He could hardly say so$5#2$ to$4$ her outright; it 
236:099,31@l   | would seem too gross a bribe.  But he should like$1$ her
236:099,32@l   | to$9$ believe it.   
236:100,01['  ]| It was with these thoughts that$3$ he went again to$4$ 
236:100,02['  ]| Mrs%*Osmond's, Mrs%*Osmond having an "evening"
236:100,03['  ]| ~~ she had taken the Thursday of each week ~~ when
236:100,04['  ]| his presence could be accounted for$4$ on$4$ general principles 
236:100,05['  ]| of civility.  The object of Mr%*Rosier's well-regulated
236:100,06['  ]| affection dwelt in$4$ a high house in$4$ the very 
236:100,07['  ]| heart of Rome; a dark and massive structure overlooking 
236:100,08['  ]| a sunny \7piazzetta\ in$4$ the neighbourhood of the 
236:100,09['  ]| Farnese*Palace.  In$4$ a palace, too, little Pansy lived
236:100,10['  ]| ~~ a palace by$4$ Roman measure, but a dungeon to$4$ 
236:100,11['  ]| poor Rosier's apprehensive mind.  It seemed to$4$ him
236:100,12['  ]| of evil omen that$3$ the young lady he wished to$9$ marry,
236:100,13['  ]| and whose fastidious father he doubted of his ability
236:100,14['  ]| to$9$ conciliate, should be immured in$4$ a kind of domestic
236:100,15['  ]| fortress, a pile which$6#1$ bore a stern old Roman name,
236:100,16['  ]| which$6#1$ smelt of historic deeds, of crime and craft and 
236:100,17['  ]| violence, which$6#1$ was mentioned in$4$ "Murray" and 
236:100,18['  ]| visited by$4$ tourists who$6#1$ looked, on$4$ a vague survey,
236:100,19['  ]| disappointed and depressed, and which$6#1$ had frescoes
236:100,20['  ]| by$4$ Caravaggio in$4$ the \7piano*nobile\ and a row of mutilated 
236:100,21['  ]| statues and dusty urns in$4$ the wide, nobly-arched
236:100,22['  ]| loggia overhanging the damp court where a fountain 
236:100,23['  ]| gushed out of a mossy niche.  In$4$ a less preoccupied 
236:100,24['  ]| frame of mind he could have done justice to$4$ the 
236:100,25['  ]| Palazzo*Roccanera; he could have entered into the 
236:100,26['  ]| sentiment of Mrs%*Osmond, who$6#1$ had once told him
236:100,27['  ]| that$3$ 
236:100,27@a   | on$4$ settling themselves in$4$ Rome she and her husband
236:100,28@a   | had chosen this habitation for$4$ the love of local 
236:100,29@a   | colour.  
236:100,29['  ]| It had local colour enough, and though he
236:100,30['  ]| knew less about architecture than about Limoges
236:100,31['  ]| enamels he could see that$3$ the proportions of the windows
236:100,32['  ]| and even the details of the cornice had quite 
236:101,01['  ]| the grand air.  But Rosier was haunted by$4$ the conviction
236:101,02['  ]| that$3$ at picturesque periods young girls had 
236:101,03['  ]| been shut up$5$ there to$9$ keep them from their true loves,
236:101,04['  ]| and then, under the threat of being thrown into convents,
236:101,05['  ]| had been forced into unholy marriages.  There
236:101,06['  ]| was one point, however, to$4$ which$6#1$ he always did justice
236:101,07['  ]| when once he found himself in$4$ Mrs%*Osmond's
236:101,08['  ]| warm, rich-looking reception-rooms, which$6#1$ were on$4$ 
236:101,09['  ]| the second floor.  He acknowledged that$3$ 
236:101,09@l   | these people
236:101,10@l   | were very strong in$4$ "good things".  It was a taste 
236:101,11@l   | of Osmond's own ~~ not at all of hers; 
236:101,11['  ]| this she had
236:101,12['  ]| told him the first time he came to$4$ the house, when,
236:101,13['  ]| after asking himself for$4$ a quarter of an hour 
236:101,13@l   | whether
236:101,14@l   | they had even better "French" than he in$4$ Paris, 
236:101,14['  ]| he 
236:101,15['  ]| was obliged on$4$ the spot to$9$ admit that$3$ 
236:101,15@l   | they had, very 
236:101,16@l   | much, 
236:101,16['  ]| and vanquished his envy, as a gentleman
236:101,17['  ]| should, to$4$ the point of expressing to$4$ his hostess his
236:101,18['  ]| pure admiration of her treasures.  He learned from
236:101,19['  ]| Mrs%*Osmond that$3$ her husband had made a large 
236:101,20['  ]| collection before their marriage and that$3$, though
236:101,21['  ]| he had annexed a number of fine pieces within the 
236:101,22['  ]| last three years, he had achieved his greatest finds at 
236:101,23['  ]| a time when he had not the advantage of her advice.
236:101,24['  ]| Rosier interpreted this information according to$4$ 
236:101,25['  ]| principles of his own.  
236:101,25@l   | For$4$ "advice" read "cash",
236:101,26['  ]| he said to$4$ himself; and the fact that$3$ Gilbert*Osmond 
236:101,27['  ]| had landed his highest prizes during his impecunious
236:101,28['  ]| season confirmed his most cherished doctrine ~~ the 
236:101,29['  ]| doctrine that$3$ 
236:101,29@l   | a collector may freely be poor if he be
236:101,30@l   | only patient.  
236:101,31['  ]| In$4$ general, when Rosier presented himself
236:101,31['  ]| on$4$ a Thursday evening, his first recognition was
236:101,32['  ]| for$4$ the walls of the saloon; there were three or four
236:102,01['  ]| objects his eyes really yearned for$4$.  But after his talk
236:102,02['  ]| with Madame*Merle he felt the extreme seriousness
236:102,03['  ]| of his position; and now, when he came in$5$, he looked
236:102,04['  ]| about for$4$ the daughter of the house with such eagerness
236:102,05['  ]| as might be permitted a gentleman whose smile,
236:102,06['  ]| as he crossed a threshold, always took everything
236:102,07['  ]| comfortable for$4$ granted.
237:103,01['  ]| Pansy was not in$4$ the first of the rooms, a large apartment 
237:103,02['  ]| with a concave ceiling and walls covered with 
237:103,03['  ]| old red damask; it was here Mrs%*Osmond usually
237:103,04['  ]| sat ~~ though she was not in$4$ her most customary 
237:103,05['  ]| place to-night ~~ and that$3$ a circle of more especial
237:103,06['  ]| intimates gathered about the fire.  The room was 
237:103,07['  ]| flushed with subdued, diffused brightness; it contained 
237:103,08['  ]| the larger things and ~~ almost always ~~ an 
237:103,09['  ]| odour of flowers.  Pansy on$4$ this occasion was presumably 
237:103,10['  ]| in$4$ the next of the series, the resort of younger 
237:103,11['  ]| visitors, where tea was served.  Osmond stood before
237:103,12['  ]| the chimney, leaning back with his hands behind
237:103,13['  ]| him; he had one foot up$5$ and was warming the sole.
237:103,14['  ]| Half a dozen persons, scattered near him, were talking
237:103,15['  ]| together; but he was not in$4$ the conversation;
237:103,16['  ]| his eyes had an expression, frequent with them, that$6#1$
237:103,17['  ]| seemed to$9$ represent them as engaged with objects 
237:103,18['  ]| more worth their while than the appearances actually 
237:103,19['  ]| thrust upon$4$ them.  Rosier, coming in$5$ unannounced,
237:103,20['  ]| failed to$9$ attract his attention; but the young
237:103,21['  ]| man, who$6#1$ was very punctilious, though he was even 
237:103,22['  ]| exceptionally conscious that$3$ it was the wife, not the 
237:103,23['  ]| husband, he had come to$9$ see, went up$5$ to$9$ shake hands
237:103,24['  ]| with him.  Osmond put out his left hand, without
237:103,25['  ]| changing his attitude.
237:103,26[C  ]| "How d'ye do?  My wife is somewhere about." 
237:104,01[L  ]| "Never fear; I shall find her," 
237:104,01['  ]| said Rosier cheerfully.
237:104,02['  ]| 
237:104,03['  ]| Osmond, however, took him in$5$; he had never in$4$ 
237:104,04['  ]| his life felt himself so$5#1$ efficiently looked at. 
237:104,04@l   | "Madame*Merle
237:104,05@l   | has told him, and he does not like$1$ it," 
237:104,05['  ]| he 
237:104,06['  ]| privately reasoned.  He had hoped Madame*Merle
237:104,07['  ]| would be there, but she was not in$4$ sight; 
237:104,07@l   | perhaps 
237:104,08@l   | she was in$4$ one of the other rooms or would come 
237:104,09@l   | later.  
237:104,09['  ]| He had never especially delighted in$4$ Gilbert*Osmond,
237:104,10['  ]| having a fancy he gave himself airs.  But
237:104,11['  ]| Rosier was not quickly resentful, and where politeness 
237:104,12['  ]| was concerned had ever a strong need of being
237:104,13['  ]| quite in$4$ the right.   He looked round him and smiled,
237:104,14['  ]| all without help, and then in$4$ a moment,
237:104,14[L  ]| "I saw a 
237:104,15[L  ]| jolly good piece of Capo*di*Monte to-day," 
237:104,15['  ]| he said.
237:104,16['  ]| Osmond answered nothing at first;
237:104,17['  ]| but presently,
237:104,17['  ]| while he warmed his boot-sole, 
237:104,17[C  ]| "I do not care a fig
237:104,18[C  ]| for$4$ Capo*di*Monte!" 
237:104,18['  ]| he returned.
237:104,19[L  ]| "I hope you are not losing your interest?"
237:104,20[C  ]| "In$4$ old pots and plates?  Yes, I am losing my interest."
237:104,21[C  ]| 
237:104,22['  ]| Rosier for$4$ an instant forgot the delicacy of his
237:104,23['  ]| position. 
237:104,23[L  ]| "You are not thinking of parting with a ~~
237:104,24[L  ]| a piece or two?"
237:104,25[C  ]| "No$7$, I am not thinking of parting with anything 
237:104,26[C  ]| at all, Mr%*Rosier,"
237:104,26['  ]| said Osmond, with his eyes still
237:104,27['  ]| on$4$ the eyes of the visitor.
237:104,28[L  ]| "Ah, you want to$9$ keep, but not to$9$ add," 
237:104,28['  ]| Rosier
237:104,29['  ]| remarked brightly.
237:104,30[C  ]| "Exactly.  I have nothing I wish to$9$ match."
237:104,31['  ]| Poor Rosier was aware he had blushed; he was
237:104,32['  ]| distressed at his want of assurance. 
237:104,32[L  ]| "Ah, well, \I\
237:105,01[L  ]| have!" 
237:105,01['  ]| was all he could murmur; and he knew
237:105,02['  ]| his murmur was partly lost as he turned away.  He
237:105,03['  ]| took his course to$4$ the adjoining room and met Mrs%*Osmond
237:105,04['  ]| coming out of the deep doorway.  She was  
237:105,05['  ]| dressed in$4$ black velvet; 
237:105,05@l   | she looked high and splendid, 
237:105,06['  ]| as he had said, 
237:105,06@l   | and yet oh so$5#1$ radiantly gentle!
237:105,07['  ]| We know what Mr%*Rosier thought of her and the 
237:105,08['  ]| terms in$4$ which$6#1$, to$4$ Madame*Merle, he had expressed
237:105,09['  ]| his admiration.  Like$4$ his appreciation of her dear
237:105,10['  ]| little stepdaughter it was based partly on$4$ his eye
237:105,11['  ]| for$4$ decorative character, his instinct for$4$ authenticity;
237:105,12['  ]| but also on$4$ a sense of uncatalogued values, for$3$ that$6#2$ 
237:105,13['  ]| secret of a "lustre" beyond any recorded losing or 
237:105,14['  ]| rediscovering, which$6#1$ his devotion to$4$ brittle wares 
237:105,15['  ]| had still not disqualified him to$9$ recognise.  Mrs%*Osmond, 
237:105,16['  ]| at present, might well have gratified such 
237:105,17['  ]| tastes.  The years had touched her only to$9$ enrich
237:105,18['  ]| her; the flower of her youth had not faded, it only
237:105,19['  ]| hung more quietly on$4$ its stem.  She had lost something
237:105,20['  ]| of that$6#2$ quick eagerness to$4$ which$6#1$ her husband
237:105,21['  ]| had privately taken exception ~~ she had more the 
237:105,22['  ]| air of being able to$9$ wait.  Now, at all events, framed
237:105,23['  ]| in$4$ the gilded doorway, she struck our young man
237:105,24['  ]| as 
237:105,24@l   | the picture of a gracious lady. 
237:105,24[L  ]| "You see I am
237:105,25[L  ]| very regular," 
237:105,25['  ]| he said.  
237:105,25[L  ]| "But who$6#2$ should be if I am
237:105,26[L  ]| not?"
237:105,27[A  ]| "Yes, I have known you longer than any*one here.
237:105,28[A  ]| But we must not indulge in$4$ tender reminiscences. I 
237:105,29[A  ]| want to$9$ introduce you to$4$ a young lady."
237:105,30[L  ]| "Ah, please, what young lady?"  
237:105,30['  ]| Rosier was immensely
237:105,31['  ]| obliging; but this was not what he had come
237:105,32['  ]| for$4$.
237:106,01[A  ]| "She sits there by$4$ the fire in$4$ pink and has no*one 
237:106,02[A  ]| to$9$ speak to$4$."
237:106,03['  ]| Rosier hesitated a moment.
237:106,03[L  ]| "can not Mr%*Osmond 
237:106,04[L  ]| speak to$4$ her?  He is within six feet of her."
237:106,05['  ]| Mrs%*Osmond also hesitated. 
237:106,05[A  ]| "She is not very 
237:106,06[A  ]| lively, and he does not like$1$ dull people."
237:106,07[L  ]| "But she is good enough for$4$ me?  Ah now, that$6#2$ is 
237:106,08[L  ]| hard!"
237:106,09[A  ]| "I only mean that$3$ you have ideas for$4$ two.  And then
237:106,10[A  ]| you are so$5#1$ obliging."
237:106,11[L  ]| "So$5#2$ is your husband."
237:106,12[A  ]| "No$7$, he is not ~~ to$4$ me." 
237:106,12['  ]| And Mrs%*Osmond
237:106,13['  ]| vaguely smiled.
237:106,14[L  ]| "That$6#2$ is a sign he should be doubly so$5#2$ to$4$ other 
237:106,15[L  ]| women."
237:106,16[A  ]| "So$5#2$ I tell him,"
237:106,16['  ]| she said, still smiling.
237:106,17[L  ]| "You see I want some tea," 
237:106,17['  ]| Rosier went on$5$, looking
237:106,18['  ]| wistfully beyond.
237:106,19[A  ]| "That$6#2$ is perfect.  Go and give some to$4$ my young 
237:106,20[A  ]| lady."
237:106,21[L  ]| "Very good; but after that$6#2$ I will$1$ abandon her to$4$ her 
237:106,22[L  ]| fate.  The simple truth is I am dying to$9$ have a little
237:106,23[L  ]| talk with Miss*Osmond."
237:106,24[A  ]| "Ah,"
237:106,24['  ]| said Isabel, turning away, 
237:106,24[A  ]| "I can not help 
237:106,25[A  ]| you there!"
237:106,26['  ]| Five minutes later, while he handed a tea-cup to$4$ 
237:106,27['  ]| the damsel in$4$ pink, whom he had conducted into the 
237:106,28['  ]| other room, he wondered whether, in$4$ making to$4$ Mrs%*Osmond
237:106,29['  ]| the profession I have just quoted, 
237:106,29@l   | he had
237:106,30@l   | broken the spirit of his promise to$4$ Madame*Merle.
237:106,31['  ]| Such a question was capable of occupying this young
237:106,32['  ]| man's mind for$4$ a considerable time.  At last, however,
237:107,01['  ]| he became ~~ comparatively speaking ~~ reckless; 
237:107,02['  ]| he cared little what promises he might break.
237:107,03['  ]| The fate to$4$ which$6#1$ he had threatened to$9$ abandon the 
237:107,04['  ]| damsel in$4$ pink proved to$9$ be none so$5#1$ terrible; for$3$
237:107,05['  ]| Pansy*Osmond, who$6#1$ had given him the tea for$4$ his 
237:107,06['  ]| companion ~~ Pansy was as fond as ever of making 
237:107,07['  ]| tea ~~ presently came and talked to$4$ her.  Into this
237:107,08['  ]| mild colloquy Edward*Rosier entered little; he sat
237:107,09['  ]| by$5$ moodily, watching his small sweetheart.  If we
237:107,10['  ]| look at her now through his eyes we shall at first not
237:107,11['  ]| see much to$9$ remind us of the obedient little girl who$6#1$,
237:107,12['  ]| at Florence, three years before, was sent to$9$ walk
237:107,13['  ]| short distances in$4$ the Cascine while her father and 
237:107,14['  ]| Miss*Archer talked together of matters sacred to$4$ 
237:107,15['  ]| elder people.  But after a moment we shall perceive 
237:107,16['  ]| that$3$ if at nineteen Pansy has become a young lady
237:107,17['  ]| she does not really fill out the part; that$3$ if she has
237:107,18['  ]| grown very pretty she lacks in$4$ a deplorable degree
237:107,19['  ]| the quality known and esteemed in$4$ the appearance
237:107,20['  ]| of females as style; and that$3$ if she is dressed with
237:107,21['  ]| great freshness she wears her smart attire with an
237:107,22['  ]| undisguised appearance of saving it ~~ very much as
237:107,23['  ]| if it were lent her for$4$ the occasion.  Edward*Rosier,
237:107,24['  ]| it would seem, would have been just the man to$9$ note
237:107,25['  ]| these defects; and in$4$ point of fact there was not a 
237:107,26['  ]| quality of this young lady, of any sort, that$6#1$ he had
237:107,27['  ]| not noted.  Only he called her qualities by$4$ names of
237:107,28['  ]| his own ~~ some of which$6#1$ indeed were happy enough.
237:107,29@l   | "No$7$, she is unique ~~ she is absolutely unique," 
237:107,29['  ]| he
237:107,30['  ]| used to$9$ say to$4$ himself; and you may be sure that$3$ not
237:107,31['  ]| for$4$ an instant would he have admitted to$4$ you that$3$ she 
237:107,32['  ]| was wanting in$4$ style.  
237:107,32@l   | Style?  Why, she had the style
237:108,01@l   | of a little princess; if you could not see it you had no$2$
237:108,02@l   | eye.  It was not modern, it was not conscious, it would
237:108,03@l   | produce no$2$ impression in$4$ Broadway; the small, serious
237:108,04@l   | damsel, in$4$ her stiff little dress, only looked like$4$ an
237:108,05@l   | Infanta of Velasquez.  
237:108,05['  ]| This was enough for$4$ Edward*Rosier,
237:108,06['  ]| who$6#1$ thought her delightfully old-fashioned.
237:108,07['  ]| Her anxious eyes, her charming lips, her slip of a figure,
237:108,08['  ]| were as touching as a childish prayer.  He had now an 
237:108,09['  ]| acute desire to$9$ know just to$4$ what point she liked him
237:108,10['  ]| ~~ a desire which$6#1$ made him fidget as he sat in$4$ his 
237:108,11['  ]| chair.  It made him feel hot, so$3$ that$3$ he had to$9$ pat his 
237:108,12['  ]| forehead with his handkerchief; he had never been 
237:108,13['  ]| so$5#1$ uncomfortable.  
237:108,13@l   | She was such a perfect \9jeune*fille\,
237:108,14@l   | and one could not make of a \9jeune*fille\ the enquiry 
237:108,15@l   | requisite for$4$ throwing light on$4$ such a point.  
237:108,15['  ]| A \9jeune*fille\
237:108,16['  ]| was what Rosier had always dreamed of ~~ a
237:108,17['  ]| \9jeune*fille\ who$6#1$ should yet not be French, for$3$ he had
237:108,18['  ]| felt that$3$ 
237:108,18@l   | this nationality would complicate the question.
237:108,19@l   | He was sure Pansy had never looked at a newspaper 
237:108,20@l   | and that$3$, in$4$ the way of novels, if she had read 
237:108,21@l   | Sir*Walter*Scott it was the very most.  An American  
237:108,22@l   | \9jeune*fille\ ~~ what could be better than that$6#2$?  She
237:108,23@l   | would be frank and gay, and yet would not have 
237:108,24@l   | walked alone, nor have received letters from men, 
237:108,25@l   | nor have been taken to$4$ the theatre to$9$ see the comedy 
237:108,26@l   | of manners.  
237:108,26['  ]| Rosier could not deny that$3$, 
237:108,26@l   | as the matter 
237:108,27@l   | stood, it would be a breach of hospitality to$9$ appeal
237:108,28@l   | directly to$4$ this unsophisticated creature; 
237:108,28['  ]| but he was
237:108,29['  ]| now in$4$ imminent danger of asking himself 
237:108,29@l   | if hospitality 
237:108,30@l   | were the most sacred thing in$4$ the world.
237:108,31@l   | Was not the sentiment that$6#1$ he entertained for$4$ Miss*Osmond
237:108,32@l   | of infinitely greater importance?  Of greater 
237:109,01@l   | importance to$4$ him ~~ yes; but not probably to$4$ the 
237:109,02@l   | master of the house.  There was one comfort; even
237:109,03@l   | if this gentleman had been placed on$4$ his guard by$4$ 
237:109,04@l   | Madame*Merle he would not have extended the 
237:109,05@l   | warning to$4$ Pansy; it would not have been part of his
237:109,06@l   | policy to$9$ let her know that$3$ a prepossessing young man
237:109,07@l   | was in$4$ love with her.  
237:109,07['  ]| But he \was\ in$4$ love with her, the 
237:109,08['  ]| prepossessing young man; and all these restrictions
237:109,09['  ]| of circumstance had ended by$4$ irritating him.  
237:109,09@l   | What
237:109,10@l   | had Gilbert*Osmond meant by$4$ giving him two fingers
237:109,11@l   | of his left hand?  If Osmond was rude, surely he himself
237:109,12@l   | might be bold.  
237:109,12['  ]| He felt extremely bold after the 
237:109,13['  ]| dull girl in$4$ so$5#1$ vain a disguise of rose-colour had 
237:109,14['  ]| responded to$4$ the call of her mother, who$6#1$ came in$5$ to$9$ say,
237:109,15['  ]| with a significant simper at Rosier, that$3$ 
237:109,15@v   | she must 
237:109,16@v   | carry her off to$4$ other triumphs.  
237:109,16['  ]| The mother and 
237:109,17['  ]| daughter departed together, and now it depended 
237:109,18['  ]| only upon$4$ him that$3$ he should be virtually alone with 
237:109,19['  ]| Pansy.  He had never been alone with her before; he
237:109,20['  ]| had never been alone with a \9jeune*fille\.  It was a great
237:109,21['  ]| moment; poor Rosier began to$9$ pat his forehead again.
237:109,22['  ]| There was another room beyond the one in$4$ which$6#1$ 
237:109,23['  ]| they stood ~~ a small room that$6#1$ had been thrown
237:109,24['  ]| open and lighted, but that$6#1$, the company not being
237:109,25['  ]| numerous, had remained empty all the evening. It
237:109,26['  ]| was empty yet; it was upholstered in$4$ pale yellow;
237:109,27['  ]| there were several lamps; through the open door it
237:109,28['  ]| looked the very temple of authorised love.  Rosier
237:109,29['  ]| gazed a moment through this aperture; he was afraid
237:109,30['  ]| that$3$ Pansy would run away, and felt almost capable
237:109,31['  ]| of stretching out a hand to$9$ detain her.  But she lingered 
237:109,32['  ]| where the other maiden had left them, making
237:110,01['  ]| no$2$ motion to$9$ join a knot of visitors on$4$ the far side of 
237:110,02['  ]| the room.  For$4$ a little it occurred to$4$ him that$3$ 
237:110,02@l   | she was 
237:110,03@l   | frightened ~~ too frightened perhaps to$9$ move; 
237:110,03['  ]| but a 
237:110,04['  ]| second glance assured him she was not, and he then
237:110,05['  ]| reflected that$3$ 
237:110,05@l   | she was too innocent indeed for$4$ that$6#2$.
237:110,06['  ]| After a supreme hesitation he asked her if he might
237:110,07['  ]| go and look at the yellow room, which$6#1$ seemed so$5#1$ attractive
237:110,08['  ]| yet so$5#1$ virginal.  He had been there already
237:110,09['  ]| with Osmond, to$9$ inspect the furniture, which$6#1$ was of 
237:110,10['  ]| the First French Empire, and especially to$9$ admire the 
237:110,11['  ]| clock (which$6#1$ he did not really admire), an immense 
237:110,12['  ]| classic structure of that$6#2$ period.  He therefore felt that$3$
237:110,13['  ]| he had now begun to$9$ manoeuvre.
237:110,14[K  ]| "Certainly, you may go,"
237:110,14['  ]| said Pansy; 
237:110,14[K  ]| "and if
237:110,15[K  ]| you like$1$ I will$1$ show you." 
237:110,15@l   | She was not in$4$ the least 
237:110,16@l   | frightened.
237:110,17[L  ]| "That$6#2$ is just what I hoped you would say; you are so$5#1$
237:110,18[L  ]| very kind," 
237:110,18['  ]| Rosier murmured.
237:110,19['  ]| They went in$5$ together; Rosier really thought the 
237:110,20['  ]| room very ugly, and it seemed cold.  The same idea
237:110,21['  ]| appeared to$9$ have struck Pansy.  
237:110,21[K  ]| "It is not for$4$ winter
237:110,22[K  ]| evenings; it is more for$4$ summer,"
237:110,22['  ]| she said.  
237:110,22[K  ]| "It is
237:110,23[K  ]| papa's taste; he has so$5#1$ much."
237:110,24@l   | He had a good deal, 
237:110,24['  ]| Rosier thought; 
237:110,24@l   | but some of 
237:110,25@l   | it was very bad.  
237:110,25['  ]| He looked about him; he hardly 
237:110,26['  ]| knew what to$9$ say in$4$ such a situation.  
237:110,26[L  ]| "Does not Mrs%*Osmond
237:110,27[L  ]| care how her rooms are done?  Has she no$2$ 
237:110,28[L  ]| taste?" 
237:110,28['  ]| he asked.
237:110,29[K  ]| "Oh yes, a great deal; but it is more for$4$ literature," 
237:110,30['  ]| said Pansy ~~ 
237:110,30[K  ]| "and for$4$ conversation. But papa cares 
237:110,31[K  ]| also for$4$ those things.  I think he knows everything."
237:110,32['  ]| Rosier was silent a little. 
237:110,32[L  ]| "There is one thing I am 
237:111,01[L  ]| sure he knows!" 
237:111,01['  ]| he broke out presently.  
237:111,01[L  ]| "He knows
237:111,02[L  ]| that$3$ when I come here it is, with all respect to$4$ him,
237:111,03[L  ]| with all respect to$4$ Mrs%*Osmond, who$6#1$ is so$5#1$ charming
237:111,04[L  ]| ~~ it is really," 
237:111,04['  ]| said the young man, 
237:111,04[L  ]| "to$9$ see you!"
237:111,05[K  ]| "To$9$ see me?"  
237:111,05['  ]| And Pansy raised her vaguely-troubled
237:111,06['  ]| eyes.
237:111,07[L  ]| "To$9$ see you; that$6#2$ is what I come for$4$," 
237:111,07['  ]| Rosier repeated,
237:111,08['  ]| feeling the intoxication of a rupture with 
237:111,09['  ]| authority.
237:111,10['  ]| Pansy stood looking at him, simply, intently, openly;
237:111,11['  ]| a blush was not needed to$9$ make her face more modest.
237:111,12[K  ]| "I thought it was for$4$ that$6#2$."
237:111,13[L  ]| "And it was not disagreeable to$4$ you?"
237:111,14[K  ]| "I could not tell; I did not know.  You never told 
237:111,15[K  ]| me," 
237:111,15['  ]| said Pansy. 
237:111,16[L  ]| "I was afraid of offending you."
237:111,17[K  ]| "You do not offend me," 
237:111,17['  ]| the young girl murmured, 
237:111,18['  ]| smiling as if an angel had kissed her.
237:111,19[L  ]| "You like$1$ me then Pansy?" 
237:111,19['  ]| Rosier asked very
237:111,20['  ]| gently, feeling very happy.
237:111,21[K  ]| "Yes ~~ I like$1$ you."
237:111,22['  ]| They had walked to$4$ the chimney-piece where the 
237:111,23['  ]| big cold Empire clock was perched; they were well
237:111,24['  ]| within the room and beyond observation from without.
237:111,25['  ]| The tone in$4$ which$6#1$ she had said these four words
237:111,26['  ]| seemed to$4$ him the very breath of nature, and his only 
237:111,27['  ]| answer could be to$9$ take her hand and hold it a moment.
237:111,28['  ]| Then he raised it to$4$ his lips.  She submitted,
237:111,29['  ]| still with her pure, trusting smile, in$4$ which$6#1$ there was
237:111,30['  ]| something ineffably passive.  
237:111,30@l   | She liked him ~~ she 
237:111,31@l   | had liked him all the while; now anything might
237:111,32@l   | happen!  She was ready ~~ she had been ready always,
237:112,01@l   | waiting for$4$ him to$9$ speak.  If he had not spoken
237:112,02@l   | she would have waited for*ever; but when the word
237:112,03@l   | came she dropped like$4$ the peach from the shaken
237:112,04@l   | tree.  
237:112,04['  ]| Rosier felt that$3$ if he should draw her toward
237:112,05['  ]| him and hold her to$4$ his heart she would submit without 
237:112,06['  ]| a murmur, would rest there without a question.
237:112,07['  ]| It was true that$3$ this would be a rash experiment in$4$ 
237:112,08['  ]| a yellow Empire \8salottino\. 
237:112,08@l   | She had known it was for$4$
237:112,09@l   | her he came, and yet like$4$ what a perfect little lady
237:112,10@l   | she had carried it off!
237:112,11[L  ]| "You are very dear to$4$ me," 
237:112,11['  ]| he murmured, trying
237:112,12['  ]| to$9$ believe that$3$ there was after all such a thing as 
237:112,13['  ]| hospitality.
237:112,14['  ]| She looked a moment at her hand, where he had
237:112,15['  ]| kissed it.  
237:112,15[K  ]| "Did you say papa knows?"
237:112,16[L  ]| "You told me just now he knows everything."
237:112,17[K  ]| "I think you must make sure," 
237:112,17['  ]| said Pansy.
237:112,18[L  ]| "Ah, my dear, when once I am sure of \you\!"  
237:112,18['  ]| Rosier
237:112,19['  ]| murmured in$4$ her ear; whereupon she turned
237:112,20['  ]| back to$4$ the other rooms with a little air of consistency
237:112,21['  ]| which$6#1$ seemed to$9$ imply that$3$ their appeal should be 
237:112,22['  ]| immediate.
237:112,23['  ]| The other rooms meanwhile had become conscious
237:112,24['  ]| of the arrival of Madame*Merle, who$6#1$, wherever she
237:112,25['  ]| went, produced an impression when she entered.
237:112,26['  ]| How she did it the most attentive spectator could
237:112,27['  ]| not have told you, for$3$ she neither spoke loud, nor
237:112,28['  ]| laughed profusely, nor moved rapidly, nor dressed
237:112,29['  ]| with splendour, nor appealed in$4$ any appreciable
237:112,30['  ]| manner to$4$ the audience.  Large, fair, smiling, serene,
237:112,31['  ]| there was something in$4$ her very tranquillity that$6#1$ diffused 
237:112,32['  ]| itself, and when people looked round it was 
237:113,01['  ]| because of a sudden quiet.  On$4$ this occasion she had
237:113,02['  ]| done the quietest thing she could do; after embracing
237:113,03['  ]| Mrs%*Osmond, which$6#1$ was more striking, she had sat 
237:113,04['  ]| down on$4$ a small sofa to$9$ commune with the master of 
237:113,05['  ]| the house.  There was a brief exchange of common-places
237:113,06['  ]| between these two ~~ they always paid, in$4$ 
237:113,07['  ]| public, a certain formal tribute to$4$ the commonplace
237:113,08['  ]| ~~ and then Madame*Merle, whose eyes had been 
237:113,09['  ]| wandering, asked 
237:113,09@h   | if little Mr%*Rosier had come this 
237:113,10@h   | evening.
237:113,11[C  ]| "He came nearly an hour ago ~~ but he has disappeared,"
237:113,12['  ]| Osmond said.
237:113,13[H  ]| "And where is Pansy?"
237:113,14[C  ]| "In$4$ the other room.  There are several people 
237:113,15[C  ]| there."
237:113,16[H  ]| "He is probably among them," 
237:113,16['  ]| said Madame*Merle.
237:113,17[C  ]| "Do you wish to$9$ see him?" 
237:113,17['  ]| Osmond asked in$4$ a 
237:113,18['  ]| provokingly pointless tone.
237:113,19['  ]| Madame*Merle looked at him a moment; she 
237:113,20['  ]| knew each of his tones to$4$ the eighth of a note.  
237:113,20[H  ]| "Yes,
237:113,21[H  ]| I should like$1$ to$9$ say to$4$ him that$3$ I have told you what 
237:113,22[H  ]| he wants, and that$3$ it interests you but feebly."
237:113,23[C  ]| "Do not tell him that$6#2$.  He will$1$ try to$9$ interest me more
237:113,24[C  ]| ~~ which$6#1$ is exactly what I do not want.  Tell him I 
237:113,25[C  ]| hate his proposal."
237:113,26[H  ]| "But you do not hate it."
237:113,27[C  ]| "It does not signify; I do not love it.  I let him see
237:113,28[C  ]| that$6#2$, myself, this evening; I was rude to$4$ him on$4$ purpose.
237:113,29[C  ]| That$6#2$ sort of thing is a great bore.  There is no$2$
237:113,30[C  ]| hurry."
237:113,31[H  ]| "I will$1$ tell him that$3$ you will$1$ take time and think it 
237:113,32[H  ]| over."
237:114,01[C  ]| "No$7$, do not do that$6#2$. He will$1$ hang on$5$."
237:114,02[H  ]| "If I discourage him he will$1$ do the same."
237:114,03[C  ]| "Yes, but in$4$ the one case he will$1$ try to$9$ talk and explain
237:114,04[C  ]| ~~ which$6#1$ would be exceedingly tiresome. In$4$ the 
237:114,05[C  ]| other he will$1$ probably hold his tongue and go in$5$ for$4$ 
237:114,06[C  ]| some deeper game.  That$6#2$ will$1$ leave me quiet.  I hate
237:114,07[C  ]| talking with a donkey."
237:114,08[H  ]| "Is that$6#2$ what you call poor Mr%*Rosier?"
237:114,09[C  ]| "Oh, he is a nuisance ~~ with his eternal majolica."
237:114,10[C  ]| 
237:114,11['  ]| Madame*Merle dropped her eyes; she had a faint
237:114,12['  ]| smile.  
237:114,12[H  ]| "He is a gentleman, he has a charming temper;
237:114,13[H  ]| and, after all, an income of forty thousand
237:114,14[H  ]| francs!"
237:114,15[C  ]| "It is misery ~~ ""genteel"" misery," 
237:114,15['  ]| Osmond broke
237:114,16['  ]| in$5$. 
237:114,16[C  ]| "It is not what I have dreamed of for$4$ Pansy."
237:114,17[H  ]| "Very good then. He has promised me not to$9$ speak
237:114,18[H  ]| to$4$ her."
237:114,19[C  ]| "Do you believe him?" 
237:114,19['  ]| Osmond asked absent-mindedly.
237:114,20['  ]| 
237:114,21[H  ]| "Perfectly.  Pansy has thought a great deal about
237:114,22[H  ]| him; but I do not suppose you consider that$3$ that$6#2$ 
237:114,23[H  ]| matters."
237:114,24[C  ]| "I do not consider it matters at all; but neither do
237:114,25[C  ]| I believe she has thought of him."
237:114,26[H  ]| "That$6#2$ opinion is more convenient," 
237:114,26['  ]| said Madame*Merle
237:114,27['  ]| quietly.
237:114,28[C  ]| "Has she told you she is in$4$ love with him?"
237:114,29[H  ]| "For$4$ what do you take her?  And for$4$ what do you 
237:114,30[H  ]| take me?" 
237:114,30['  ]| Madame*Merle added in$4$ a moment.
237:114,31['  ]| Osmond had raised his foot and was resting his
237:114,32['  ]| slim ankle on$4$ the other knee; he clasped his ankle
237:115,01['  ]| in$4$ his hand familiarly ~~ his long, fine forefinger and 
237:115,02['  ]| thumb could make a ring for$4$ it ~~ and gazed a while
237:115,03['  ]| before him.  
237:115,03[C  ]| "This kind of thing does not find me 
237:115,04[C  ]| unprepared.  It is what I educated her for$4$.  It was all
237:115,05[C  ]| for$4$ this ~~ that$3$ when such a case should come up$5$ she
237:115,06[C  ]| should do what I prefer."
237:115,07[H  ]| "I am not afraid that$3$ she will$1$ not do it."
237:115,08[C  ]| "Well then, where is the hitch?"
237:115,09[H  ]| "I do not see any. But, all the same, I recommend 
237:115,10[H  ]| you not to$9$ get rid of Mr%*Rosier.  Keep him on$4$ hand;
237:115,11[H  ]| he may be useful."
237:115,12[C  ]| "I can not keep him.  Keep him yourself."
237:115,13[H  ]| "Very good; I will$1$ put him into a corner and allow 
237:115,14[H  ]| him so$5#1$ much a day." 
237:115,14['  ]| Madame*Merle had, for$4$ the 
237:115,15['  ]| most part, while they talked, been glancing about 
237:115,16['  ]| her; it was her habit in$4$ this situation, just as it was 
237:115,17['  ]| her habit to$9$ interpose a good many blank-looking
237:115,18['  ]| pauses.  A long drop followed the last words I have
237:115,19['  ]| quoted; and before it had ended she saw Pansy come 
237:115,20['  ]| out of the adjoining room, followed by$4$ Edward*Rosier.
237:115,21['  ]| The girl advanced a few steps and then stopped
237:115,22['  ]| and stood looking at Madame*Merle and at her 
237:115,23['  ]| father.
237:115,24[H  ]| "He has spoken to$4$ her," 
237:115,24['  ]| Madame*Merle went on$5$ 
237:115,25['  ]| to$4$ Osmond.
237:115,26['  ]| Her companion never turned his head.  
237:115,26[C  ]| "So$5#1$ much
237:115,27[C  ]| for$4$ your belief in$4$ his promises.  He ought to$9$ be horse-whipped."
237:115,28[C  ]| 
237:115,29[H  ]| "He intends to$9$ confess, poor little man!"
237:115,30['  ]| Osmond got up$5$; he had now taken a sharp look
237:115,31['  ]| at his daughter.  
237:115,31[C  ]| "It does not matter," 
237:115,31['  ]| he murmured,
237:115,32['  ]| turning away.
237:116,01['  ]| Pansy after a moment came up$5$ to$4$ Madame*Merle
237:116,02['  ]| with her little manner of unfamiliar politeness.  This
237:116,03['  ]| lady's reception of her was not more intimate; she
237:116,04['  ]| simply, as she rose from the sofa, gave her a friendly
237:116,05['  ]| smile.
237:116,06[K  ]| "You are very late," 
237:116,06['  ]| the young creature gently said.
237:116,07[H  ]| "My dear child, I am never later than I intend 
237:116,08[H  ]| to$9$ be."
237:116,09['  ]| Madame*Merle had not got up$5$ to$9$ be gracious to$4$ 
237:116,10['  ]| Pansy; she moved toward Edward*Rosier.  He came 
237:116,11['  ]| to$9$ meet her and, very quickly, as if to$9$ get it off his 
237:116,12['  ]| mind, 
237:116,12[L  ]| "I have spoken to$4$ her!" 
237:116,12['  ]| he whispered.
237:116,13[H  ]| "I know it, Mr%*Rosier."
237:116,14[L  ]| "Did she tell you?"
237:116,15[H  ]| "Yes, she told me. Behave properly for$4$ the rest of 
237:116,16[H  ]| the evening, and come and see me to-morrow at a 
237:116,17[H  ]| quarter past five."  
237:116,17['  ]| She was severe, and in$4$ the manner
237:116,18['  ]| in$4$ which$6#1$ she turned her back to$4$ him there was 
237:116,19['  ]| a degree of contempt which$6#1$ caused him to$9$ mutter a 
237:116,20['  ]| decent imprecation.
237:116,21['  ]| He had no$2$ intention of speaking to$4$ Osmond; it was
237:116,22['  ]| neither the time nor the place.  But he instinctively
237:116,23['  ]| wandered toward Isabel, who$6#1$ sat talking with an 
237:116,24['  ]| old lady.  He sat down on$4$ the other side of her;
237:116,25['  ]| the old lady was Italian, and Rosier took for$4$ granted
237:116,26['  ]| she understood no$2$ English.  
237:116,26[L  ]| "You said just now you
237:116,27[L  ]| would not help me," 
237:116,27['  ]| he began to$4$ Mrs*Osmond. 
237:116,28[L  ]| "Perhaps you will$1$ feel differently when you know ~~
237:116,29[L  ]| when you know ~~ !"
237:116,30['  ]| Isabel met his hesitation.  
237:116,30[A  ]| "When I know what?"
237:116,31[L  ]| "That$3$ she is all right."
237:116,32[A  ]| "What do you mean by$4$ that$6#2$?"
237:117,01[L  ]| "Well, that$3$ we have come to$4$ an understanding."
237:117,02[A  ]| "She is all wrong," 
237:117,02['  ]| said Isabel.  
237:117,02[A  ]| "It will$1$ not do."
237:117,03['  ]| Poor Rosier gazed at her half-pleadingly, half-angrily;
237:117,04['  ]| a sudden flush testified to$4$ his sense of injury.
237:117,05[L  ]| "I have never been treated so$5#2$," 
237:117,05['  ]| he said.  
237:117,05[L  ]| "What is there 
237:117,06[L  ]| against me, after all?  That$6#2$ is not the way I am usually
237:117,07[L  ]| considered.  I could have married twenty times."
237:117,08[A  ]| "It is a pity you did not. I do not mean twenty times,
237:117,09[A  ]| but once, comfortably," 
237:117,09['  ]| Isabel added, smiling kindly.
237:117,10[A  ]| "You are not rich enough for$4$ Pansy."
237:117,11[L  ]| "She does not care a straw for$4$ one's money."
237:117,12[A  ]| "No$7$, but her father does."
237:117,13[L  ]| "Ah yes, he has proved that$6#2$!" 
237:117,13['  ]| cried the young
237:117,14['  ]| man.
237:117,15['  ]| Isabel got up$5$, turning away from him, leaving her 
237:117,16['  ]| old lady without ceremony; and he occupied himself
237:117,17['  ]| for$4$ the next ten minutes in$4$ pretending to$9$ look at Gilbert*Osmond's
237:117,18['  ]| collection of miniatures, which$6#1$ were
237:117,19['  ]| neatly arranged on$4$ a series of small velvet screens.
237:117,20['  ]| But he looked without seeing; his cheek burned; he
237:117,21['  ]| was too full of his sense of injury.  
237:117,21@l   | It was certain that$3$ 
237:117,22@l   | he had never been treated that$6#2$ way before; he was
237:117,23@l   | not used to$4$ being thought not good enough.  
237:117,23['  ]| He knew
237:117,24['  ]| how good he was, and if such a fallacy had not been
237:117,25['  ]| so$5#1$ pernicious he could have laughed at it.  He searched
237:117,26['  ]| again for$4$ Pansy, but she had disappeared, and his 
237:117,27['  ]| main desire was now to$9$ get out of the house.  Before
237:117,28['  ]| doing so$5#2$ he spoke once more to$4$ Isabel; it was not
237:117,29['  ]| agreeable to$4$ him to$9$ reflect that$3$ he had just said a rude
237:117,30['  ]| thing to$4$ her ~~ the only point that$6#1$ would now justify 
237:117,31['  ]| a low view of him.
237:117,32[L  ]| "I referred to$4$ Mr%*Osmond as I should not have 
237:118,01[L  ]| done, a while ago," 
237:118,01['  ]| he began.  
237:118,01[L  ]| "But you must remember
237:118,02[L  ]| my situation."
237:118,03[A  ]| "I do not remember what you said," 
237:118,03['  ]| she answered
237:118,04['  ]| coldly.
237:118,05[L  ]| "Ah, you are offended, and now you will$1$ never help
237:118,06[L  ]| me."
237:118,07['  ]| She was silent an instant, and then with a change
237:118,08['  ]| of tone:
237:118,08[A  ]| "It is not that$3$ I will$1$ not; I simply can not!"
237:118,09['  ]| Her manner was almost passionate.
237:118,10[L  ]| "If you \could\, just a little, I would never again speak
237:118,11[L  ]| of your husband save as an angel."
237:118,12[A  ]| "The inducement is great," 
237:118,12['  ]| said Isabel gravely ~~
237:118,13@l   | inscrutably, 
237:118,13['  ]| as he afterwards, to$4$ himself, called it;
237:118,14['  ]| and she gave him, straight in$4$ the eyes, a look which$6#1$
237:118,15['  ]| was also inscrutable.  It made him remember somehow 
237:118,16['  ]| that$3$ he had known her as a child; and yet it was
237:118,17['  ]| keener than he liked, and he took himself off.
238:119,01['  ]| He went to$9$ see Madame*Merle on$4$ the morrow, and 
238:119,02['  ]| to$4$ his surprise she let him off rather easily.  But she 
238:119,03['  ]| made him promise that$3$ he would stop there till
238:119,04['  ]| something should have been decided.  
238:119,04@h   | Mr%*Osmond
238:119,05@h   | had had higher expectations; it was very true that$3$
238:119,06@h   | as he had no$2$ intention of giving his daughter a portion
238:119,07@h   | such expectations were open to$4$ criticism or even,
238:119,08@h   | if one would, to$4$ ridicule.  But she would advise Mr%*Rosier
238:119,09@h   | not to$9$ take that$6#2$ tone; if he would possess his 
238:119,10@h   | soul in$4$ patience he might arrive at his felicity.  Mr%*Osmond
238:119,11@h   | was not favourable to$4$ his suit, but it would not 
238:119,12@h   | be a miracle if he should gradually come round.
238:119,13@h   | Pansy would never defy her father, he might depend
238:119,14@h   | on$4$ that$6#2$; so$3$ nothing was to$9$ be gained by$4$ precipitation.
238:119,15@h   | Mr%*Osmond needed to$9$ accustom his mind to$4$ 
238:119,16@h   | an offer of a sort that$6#1$ he had not hitherto entertained,
238:119,17@h   | and this result must come of itself ~~ it was useless
238:119,18@h   | to$9$ try to$9$ force it.  
238:119,18['  ]| Rosier remarked that$3$ 
238:119,18@l   | his own situation
238:119,19@l   | would be in$4$ the meanwhile the most uncomfortable 
238:119,20@l   | in$4$ the world, 
238:119,20['  ]| and Madame*Merle assured
238:119,21['  ]| him that$3$ 
238:119,21@h   | she felt for$4$ him.  
238:119,21['  ]| But, as she justly declared,
238:119,22@h   | one could not have everything one wanted; she had 
238:119,23@h   | learned that$6#2$ lesson for$4$ herself.  There would be 
238:119,24@h   | no$2$ use in$4$ his writing to$4$ Gilbert*Osmond, who$6#1$ had
238:119,25@h   | charged her to$9$ tell him as much.  He wished the matter
238:119,26@h   | dropped for$4$ a few weeks and would himself write
238:119,27@h   | when he should have anything to$9$ communicate that$6#1$
238:119,28@h   | it might please Mr%*Rosier to$9$ hear.
238:120,01[H  ]| "He does not like$1$ your having spoken to$4$ Pansy.
238:120,02[H  ]| Ah, he does not like$1$ it at all," 
238:120,02['  ]| said Madame*Merle.
238:120,03[L  ]| "I am perfectly willing to$9$ give him a chance to$9$ tell
238:120,04[L  ]| me so$5#2$!"
238:120,05[H  ]| "If you do that$6#2$ he will$1$ tell you more than you care 
238:120,06[H  ]| to$9$ hear.  Go the house, for$4$ the next month, as little
238:120,07[H  ]| as possible, and leave the rest to$4$ me."
238:120,08[L  ]| "As little as possible?  Who$6#2$ is to$9$ measure the possibility?"
238:120,09[L  ]| 
238:120,10[H  ]| "Let me measure it.  Go on$4$ Thursday evenings
238:120,11[H  ]| with the rest of the world, but do not go at all at odd
238:120,12[H  ]| times, and do not fret about Pansy.  I will$1$ see that$3$ she
238:120,13[H  ]| understands everything.  She is a calm little nature;
238:120,14[H  ]| she will$1$ take it quietly."
238:120,15['  ]| Edward*Rosier fretted about Pansy a good deal,
238:120,16['  ]| but he did as he was advised, and awaited another 
238:120,17['  ]| Thursday evening before returning to$4$ Palazzo*Roccanera.
238:120,18['  ]| There had been a party at dinner, so$3$ that$3$ 
238:120,19['  ]| though he went early the company was already tolerably 
238:120,20['  ]| numerous.  Osmond, as usual, was in$4$ the first
238:120,21['  ]| room, near the fire, staring straight at the door, so$3$ 
238:120,22['  ]| that$3$, not to$9$ be distinctly uncivil, Rosier had to$9$ go and 
238:120,23['  ]| speak to$4$ him.
238:120,24[C  ]| "I am glad that$3$ you can take a hint," 
238:120,24['  ]| Pansy's father 
238:120,25['  ]| said, slightly closing his keen, conscious eyes
238:120,26[L  ]| "I take no$2$ hints.  But I took a message, as I supposed 
238:120,27[L  ]| it to$9$ be."
238:120,28[C  ]| "You took it? Where did you take it?"
238:120,29['  ]| It seemed to$4$ poor Rosier 
238:120,29@l   | he was being insulted,
238:120,30['  ]| and he waited a moment, asking himself 
238:120,31@l   | how much
238:120,31@l   | a true lover ought to$9$ submit to$4$.  
238:120,31[L  ]| "Madame*Merle
238:120,32[L  ]| gave me, as I understood it, a message from you ~~
238:121,01[L  ]| to$4$ the effect that$3$ you declined to$9$ give me the opportunity
238:121,02[L  ]| I desire, the opportunity to$9$ explain my wishes 
238:121,03[L  ]| to$4$ you."  
238:121,03['  ]| And he flattered himself he spoke rather 
238:121,04['  ]| sternly.
238:121,05[C  ]| "I do not see what Madame*Merle has to$9$ do with
238:121,06[C  ]| it.  Why did you apply to$4$ Madame*Merle?"
238:121,07[L  ]| "I asked her for$4$ an opinion ~~ for$4$ nothing more.
238:121,08[L  ]| I did so$5#2$ because she had seemed to$4$ me to$9$ know you 
238:121,09[L  ]| very well."
238:121,10[C  ]| "She does not know me so$5#1$ well as she thinks," 
238:121,10['  ]| said
238:121,11['  ]| Osmond.
238:121,12[L  ]| "I am sorry for$4$ that$6#2$, because she has given me 
238:121,13[L  ]| some little ground for$4$ hope."
238:121,14['  ]| Osmond stared into the fire a moment.  
238:121,14[C  ]| "I set a 
238:121,15[C  ]| great price on$4$ my daughter."
238:121,16[L  ]| "You can not set a higher one than I do.  Do not I 
238:121,17[L  ]| prove it by$4$ wishing to$9$ marry her?"
238:121,18[C  ]| "I wish to$9$ marry her very well," 
238:121,18['  ]| Osmond went on$5$
238:121,19['  ]| with a dry impertinence which$6#1$, in$4$ another mood,
238:121,20['  ]| poor Rosier would have admired.
238:121,21[L  ]| "Of course I pretend she would marry well in$4$ marrying 
238:121,22[L  ]| me.  She could not marry a man who$6#1$ loves her
238:121,23[L  ]| more ~~ or whom, I may venture to$9$ add, she loves
238:121,24[L  ]| more."
238:121,25[C  ]| "I am not bound to$9$ accept your theories as to$4$ whom
238:121,26[C  ]| my daughter loves" 
238:121,26['  ]| ~~ and Osmond looked up$5$ with 
238:121,27['  ]| a quick, cold smile.
238:121,28[L  ]| "I am not theorising.  Your daughter has spoken."
238:121,29[C  ]| "Not to$4$ me," 
238:121,29['  ]| Osmond continued, now bending
238:121,30['  ]| forward a little and dropping his eyes to$4$ his boot-toes.
238:121,31[L  ]| "I have her promise, sir!" 
238:121,31['  ]| cried Rosier with the 
238:121,32['  ]| sharpness of exasperation.
238:122,01['  ]| As their voices had beep pitched very low before,
238:122,02['  ]| such a note attracted some attention from the company.
238:122,03['  ]| Osmond waited till this little movement had 
238:122,04['  ]| subsided; then he said, all undisturbed:
238:122,04[C  ]| "I think 
238:122,05[C  ]| she has no$2$ recollection of having given it."
238:122,06['  ]| They had been standing with their faces to$4$ the fire, 
238:122,07['  ]| and after he had uttered these last words the master
238:122,08['  ]| of the house turned round again to$4$ the room.  Before 
238:122,09['  ]| Rosier had time to$9$ reply he perceived that$3$ a gentleman
238:122,10['  ]| ~~ a stranger ~~ had just come in$5$, unannounced,
238:122,11['  ]| according to$4$ the Roman custom, and was about to$9$ 
238:122,12['  ]| present himself to$4$ his host.  The latter smiled blandly,
238:122,13['  ]| but somewhat blankly; the visitor had a handsome
238:122,14['  ]| face and a large, fair beard, and was evidently an 
238:122,15['  ]| Englishman.
238:122,16[D  ]| "You apparently do not recognise me," 
238:122,16['  ]| he said with 
238:122,17['  ]| a smile that$6#1$ expressed more than Osmond's.
238:122,18[C  ]| "Ah yes, now I do.  I expected so$5#1$ little to$9$ see you."
238:122,19['  ]| Rosier departed and went in$4$ direct pursuit of Pansy.
238:122,20['  ]| He sought her, as usual, in$4$ the neighbouring room,
238:122,21['  ]| but he again encountered Mrs%*Osmond in$4$ his path.
238:122,22['  ]| He gave his hostess no$2$ greeting ~~ he was too righteously
238:122,23['  ]| indignant, but said to$4$ her crudely:
238:122,23[L  ]| "Your
238:122,24[L  ]| husband is awfully cold-blooded."
238:122,25['  ]| She gave the same mystical smile he had noticed
238:122,26['  ]| before.  
238:122,26[A  ]| "You can not expect every*one to$9$ be as hot as
238:122,27[A  ]| yourself."
238:122,28[L  ]| "I do not pretend to$9$ be cold, but I am cool.  What
238:122,29[L  ]| has he been doing to$4$ his daughter?"
238:122,30[A  ]| "I have no$2$ idea."
238:122,31[L  ]| "Do not you take any interest?" 
238:122,31['  ]| Rosier demanded
238:122,32['  ]| with his sense that$3$ she too was irritating.
238:123,01['  ]| For$4$ a moment she answered nothing; then, 
238:123,01[A  ]| "No$7$!"
238:123,02['  ]| she said abruptly and with a quickened light in$4$ her
238:123,03['  ]| eyes which$6#1$ directly contradicted the word.
238:123,04[L  ]| "Pardon me if I do not believe that$6#2$.  Where is Miss*Osmond?"
238:123,05[L  ]|
238:123,06[A  ]| "In$4$ the corner, making tea. Please leave her there."
238:123,07['  ]| Rosier instantly discovered his friend, who$6#1$ had
238:123,08['  ]| been hidden by$4$ intervening groups.  He watched her,
238:123,09['  ]| but her own attention was entirely given to$4$ her occupation.
238:123,10[L  ]| "What on$4$ earth has he done to$4$ her?" 
238:123,10['  ]| he
238:123,11['  ]| asked again imploringly.  
238:123,11[L  ]| "He declares to$4$ me she has 
238:123,12[L  ]| given me up$5$."
238:123,13[A  ]| "She has not given you up$5$," 
238:123,13['  ]| Isabel said in$4$ a low
238:123,14['  ]| tone and without looking at him.
238:123,15[L  ]| "Ah, thank you for$4$ that$6#2$!  Now I will$1$ leave her alone 
238:123,16[L  ]| as long as you think proper!"
238:123,17['  ]| He had hardly spoken when he saw her change 
238:123,18['  ]| colour, and became aware that$3$ Osmond was coming
238:123,19['  ]| toward her accompanied by$4$ the gentleman who$6#1$ had
238:123,20['  ]| just entered.  He judged the latter, in$4$ spite of the advantage 
238:123,21['  ]| of good looks and evident social experience,
238:123,22['  ]| a little embarrassed.  
238:123,22[C  ]| "Isabel," 
238:123,22['  ]| said her husband,
238:123,23[C  ]| "I bring you an old friend."
238:123,24['  ]| Mrs%*Osmond's face, though it wore a smile, was, 
238:123,25['  ]| like$4$ her old friend's, not perfectly confident.  
238:123,25[A  ]| "I am
238:123,26[A  ]| very happy to$9$ see Lord*Warburton," 
238:123,26['  ]| she said.  Rosier
238:123,27['  ]| turned away and, now that$3$ his talk with her had
238:123,28['  ]| been interrupted, felt absolved from the little pledge
238:123,29['  ]| he had just taken.  He had a quick impression that$3$ 
238:123,30['  ]| Mrs%*Osmond would not notice what he did.
238:123,31['  ]| Isabel in$4$ fact, to$9$ do him justice, for$4$ some time
238:123,32['  ]| quite ceased to$9$ observe him.  She had been startled;
238:124,01['  ]| she hardly knew if she felt a pleasure or a pain.  Lord*Warburton,
238:124,02['  ]| however, now that$3$ he was face to$4$ face 
238:124,03['  ]| with her, was plainly quite sure of his own sense of 
238:124,04['  ]| the matter; though his grey eyes had still their fine
238:124,05['  ]| original property of keeping recognition and attestation 
238:124,06['  ]| strictly sincere.  He was "heavier" than of yore
238:124,07['  ]| and looked older; he stood there very solidly and 
238:124,08['  ]| sensibly.
238:124,09[D  ]| "I suppose you did not expect to$9$ see me," 
238:124,09['  ]| he said;
238:124,10[D  ]| "I have but just arrived.  Literally, I only got here this 
238:124,11[D  ]| evening.  You see I have lost no$2$ time in$4$ coming to$9$ pay 
238:124,12[D  ]| you my respects.  I knew you were at home on$4$ Thursdays."
238:124,13[D  ]| 
238:124,14[C  ]| "You see the fame of your Thursdays has spread 
238:124,15[C  ]| to$4$ England," 
238:124,15['  ]| Osmond remarked to$4$ his wife.
238:124,16[A  ]| "It is very kind of Lord*Warburton to$9$ come so$5#1$ 
238:124,17[A  ]| soon; we are greatly flattered," 
238:124,17['  ]| Isabel said.
238:124,18[C  ]| "Ah well, it is better than stopping in$4$ one of those 
238:124,19[C  ]| horrible inns," 
238:124,19['  ]| Osmond went on$5$.
238:124,20[D  ]| "The hotel seems very good; I think it is the same
238:124,21[D  ]| at which$6#1$ I saw you four years since.  You know it was 
238:124,22[D  ]| here in$4$ Rome that$3$ we first met; it is a long time ago.
238:124,23[D  ]| Do you remember where I bade you good-bye?" 
238:124,23['  ]| his
238:124,24['  ]| lordship asked of his hostess.  
238:124,24[D  ]| "It was in$4$ the Capitol,
238:124,25[D  ]| in$4$ the first room."
238:124,26[C  ]| "I remember that$6#2$ myself," 
238:124,26['  ]| said Osmond.  
238:124,26[C  ]| "I was
238:124,27[C  ]| there at the time."
238:124,28[D  ]| "Yes, I remember you there.  I was very sorry to$9$ 
238:124,29[D  ]| leave Rome ~~ so$5#1$ sorry that$3$, somehow or other, it became
238:124,30[D  ]| almost a dismal memory, and I have never cared 
238:124,31[D  ]| to$9$ come back till to-day.  But I knew you were living 
238:124,32[D  ]| here," 
238:124,32['  ]| her old friend went on$5$ to$4$ Isabel, 
238:124,32[D  ]| "and I assure
238:125,01[D  ]| you I have often thought of you.  It must be a charming
238:125,02[D  ]| place to$9$ live in$4$," 
238:125,02['  ]| he added with a look, round him,
238:125,03['  ]| at her established home, in$4$ which$6#1$ she might have 
238:125,04['  ]| caught the dim ghost of his old ruefulness.
238:125,05[C  ]| "We should have been glad to$9$ see you at any time,"
238:125,06['  ]| Osmond observed with propriety.
238:125,07[D  ]| "Thank you very much.  I have not been out of 
238:125,08[D  ]| England since then.  Till a month ago I really supposed 
238:125,09[D  ]| my travels over."
238:125,10[A  ]| "I have heard of you from time to$4$ time," 
238:125,10['  ]| said Isabel, 
238:125,11['  ]| who$6#1$ had already, with her rare capacity for$4$ such 
238:125,12['  ]| inward feats, taken the measure of what meeting him
238:125,13['  ]| again meant for$4$ her.
238:125,14[D  ]| "I hope you have heard no$2$ harm.  My life has been 
238:125,15[D  ]| a remarkably complete blank."
238:125,16[C  ]| "Like$4$ the good reigns in$4$ history," 
238:125,16['  ]| Osmond suggested.
238:125,17['  ]| He appeared to$9$ think his duties as a host 
238:125,18['  ]| now terminated ~~ he had performed them so$5#1$ conscientiously.
238:125,19['  ]| Nothing could have been more adequate,
238:125,20['  ]| more nicely measured, than his courtesy to$4$ his 
238:125,21['  ]| wife's old friend.  It was punctilious, it was explicit,
238:125,22['  ]| it was everything but natural ~~ a deficiency which$6#1$ 
238:125,23['  ]| Lord*Warburton, who$6#1$, himself, had on$4$ the whole a 
238:125,24['  ]| good deal of nature, may be supposed to$9$ have perceived.
238:125,25[C  ]| "I will$1$ leave you and Mrs%*Osmond together,"
238:125,26['  ]| he added.  
238:125,26[C  ]| "You have reminiscences into which$6#1$ I 
238:125,27[C  ]| do not enter."
238:125,28[D  ]| "I am afraid you lose a good deal!" 
238:125,28['  ]| Lord*Warburton
238:125,29['  ]| called after him, as he moved away, in$4$ a tone 
238:125,30['  ]| which$6#1$ perhaps betrayed overmuch an appreciation
238:125,31['  ]| of his generosity.  Then the visitor turned on$4$ Isabel
238:125,32['  ]| the deeper, the deepest, consciousness of his look,
238:126,01['  ]| which$6#1$ gradually became more serious.  
238:126,01[D  ]| "I am really
238:126,02[D  ]| very glad to$9$ see you."
238:126,03[A  ]| "It is very pleasant.  You are very kind."
238:126,04[D  ]| "Do you know that$3$ you are changed ~~ a little?"
238:126,05['  ]| She just hesitated. 
238:126,05[A  ]| "Yes ~~ a good deal."
238:126,06[D  ]| "I do not mean for$4$ the worse, of course; and yet 
238:126,07[D  ]| how can I say for$4$ the better?"
238:126,08[A  ]| "I think I shall have no$2$ scruple in$4$ saying that$6#2$ to$4$ 
238:126,09[A  ]| \you\," 
238:126,09['  ]| she bravely returned.
238:126,10[D  ]| "Ah well, for$4$ me ~~ it is a long time.  It would be
238:126,11[D  ]| a pity there should not be something to$9$ show for$4$ it."
238:126,12['  ]| They sat down and she asked him about his sisters,
238:126,13['  ]| with other enquiries of a somewhat perfunctory kind.
238:126,14['  ]| He answered her questions as if they interested him,
238:126,15['  ]| and in$4$ a few moments she saw ~~ or believed she saw 
238:126,16['  ]| ~~ that$3$ he would press with less of his whole weight
238:126,17['  ]| than of yore.  Time had breathed upon$4$ his heart and,
238:126,18['  ]| without chilling it, given it a relieved sense of having
238:126,19['  ]| taken the air.  Isabel felt her usual esteem for$4$ Time
238:126,20['  ]| rise at a bound.  Her friend's manner was certainly
238:126,21['  ]| that$6#2$ of a contented man, one who$6#1$ would rather like$1$ 
238:126,22['  ]| people, or like$1$ her at least, to$9$ know him for$4$ such.
238:126,23[D  ]| "There is something I must tell you without more
238:126,24[D  ]| delay," 
238:126,24['  ]| he resumed.  
238:126,24[D  ]| "I have brought Ralph*Touchett
238:126,25[D  ]| with me."
238:126,26[A  ]| "Brought him with you?" 
238:126,26['  ]| Isabel's surprise was 
238:126,27['  ]| great.
238:126,28[D  ]| "He is at the hotel; he was too tired to$9$ come out
238:126,29[D  ]| and has gone to$4$ bed."
238:126,30[A  ]| "I will$1$ go to$9$ see him," 
238:126,30['  ]| she immediately said.
238:126,31[D  ]| "That$6#2$ is exactly what I hoped you would do.  I had an 
238:126,32[D  ]| idea you had not seen much of him since your marriage,
238:127,01[D  ]| that$3$ in$4$ fact your relations were a ~~ a little more
238:127,02[D  ]| formal.  That$6#2$ is why I hesitated ~~ like$4$ an awkward
238:127,03[D  ]| Briton."
238:127,04[A  ]| "I am as fond of Ralph as ever," 
238:127,04['  ]| Isabel answered.
238:127,05[A  ]| "But why has he come to$4$ Rome?"  
238:127,05['  ]| The declaration 
238:127,06['  ]| was very gentle, the question a little sharp.
238:127,07[D  ]| "Because he is very far gone, Mrs%*Osmond."
238:127,08[A  ]| "Rome then is no$2$ place for$4$ him.  I heard from him
238:127,09[A  ]| that$3$ he had determined to$9$ give up$5$ his custom of wintering 
238:127,10[A  ]| abroad and to$9$ remain in$4$ England, indoors, in$4$ 
238:127,11[A  ]| what he called an artificial climate."
238:127,12[D  ]| "Poor fellow, he does not succeed with the artificial!
238:127,13[D  ]| I went to$9$ see him three weeks ago at Gardencourt,
238:127,14[D  ]| and found him thoroughly ill.  He has been getting
238:127,15[D  ]| worse every year, and now he has no$2$ strength left.  He
238:127,16[D  ]| smokes no$2$ more cigarettes! He had got up$5$ an artificial 
238:127,17[D  ]| climate indeed; the house was as hot as Calcutta.
238:127,18[D  ]| Nevertheless he had suddenly taken it into his head 
238:127,19[D  ]| to$9$ start for$4$ Sicily.  I did not believe it ~~ neither did 
238:127,20[D  ]| the doctors, nor any of his friends.  His mother, as I 
238:127,21[D  ]| suppose you know, is in$4$ America, so$3$ there was no*one
238:127,22[D  ]| to$9$ prevent him.  He stuck to$4$ his idea that$3$ it would be 
238:127,23[D  ]| the saving of him to$9$ spend the winter at Catania.  He
238:127,24[D  ]| said 
238:127,24@b   | he could take servants and furniture, could make 
238:127,25@b   | himself comfortable, 
238:127,25[D  ]| but in$4$ point of fact he has not
238:127,26[D  ]| brought anything.  I wanted him at least to$9$ go by$4$ sea,
238:127,27[D  ]| to$9$ save fatigue; but he said 
238:127,27@b   | he hated the sea and 
238:127,28@b   | wished to$9$ stop at Rome.  
238:127,28[D  ]| After that$6#2$, though I thought 
238:127,29[D  ]| it all rubbish, I made up$5$ my mind to$9$ come with him.
238:127,30[D  ]| I am acting as ~~ what do you call it in$4$ America? ~~
238:127,31[D  ]| as a kind of moderator.  Poor Ralph is very moderate
238:127,32[D  ]| now.  We left England a fortnight ago, and he has
238:128,01[D  ]| been very bad on$4$ the way.  He can not keep warm, and 
238:128,02[D  ]| the further south we come the more he feels the cold.
238:128,03[D  ]| He has got rather a good man, but I am afraid he is 
238:128,04[D  ]| beyond human help.  I wanted him to$9$ take with him
238:128,05[D  ]| some clever fellow ~~ I mean some sharp young doctor;
238:128,06[D  ]| but he would not hear of it.  If you do not mind
238:128,07[D  ]| my saying so$5#2$, I think it was a most extraordinary time 
238:128,08[D  ]| for$4$ Mrs*Touchett to$9$ decide on$4$ going to$4$ America."
238:128,09['  ]| Isabel had listened eagerly; her face was full of 
238:128,10['  ]| pain and wonder.  
238:128,10[A  ]| "My aunt does that$6#2$ at fixed periods
238:128,11[A  ]| and lets nothing turn her aside.  When the date comes
238:128,12[A  ]| round she starts; I think she would have started if Ralph 
238:128,13[A  ]| had been dying."
238:128,14[D  ]| "I sometimes think he \is\ dying," 
238:128,14['  ]| Lord*Warburton
238:128,15['  ]| said.
238:128,16['  ]| Isabel sprang up$5$. 
238:128,16[A  ]| "I will$1$ go to$4$ him then now."
238:128,17['  ]| He checked her; he was a little disconcerted at the 
238:128,18['  ]| quick effect of his words.  
238:128,18[D  ]| "I do not mean I thought
238:128,19[D  ]| so$5#2$ to-night.  On$4$ the contrary, to-day, in$4$ the train, he 
238:128,20[D  ]| seemed particularly well; the idea of our reaching 
238:128,21[D  ]| Rome ~~ he is very fond of Rome, you know ~~ gave 
238:128,22[D  ]| him strength. An hour ago, when I bade him goodnight,
238:128,23[D  ]| he told me 
238:128,23@b   | he was very tired, but very happy. 
238:128,24[D  ]| Go to$4$ him in$4$ the morning; that$6#2$ is all I mean.  I did not 
238:128,25[D  ]| tell him I was coming here; I did not decide to$9$ till 
238:128,26[D  ]| after we had separated.  Then I remembered he had 
238:128,27[D  ]| told me you had an evening, and that$3$ it was this very
238:128,28[D  ]| Thursday.  It occurred to$4$ me to$9$ come in$5$ and tell you 
238:128,29[D  ]| he is here, and let you know you had perhaps better
238:128,30[D  ]| not wait for$4$ him to$9$ call.  I think he said he had not 
238:128,31[D  ]| written to$4$ you." 
238:128,31['  ]| There was no$2$ need of Isabel's declaring 
238:128,32['  ]| that$3$ she would act upon$4$ Lord*Warburton's
238:129,01['  ]| information; she looked, as she sat there, like$4$ a 
238:129,02['  ]| winged creature held back. 
238:129,02[D  ]| "Let alone that$3$ I wanted 
238:129,03[D  ]| to$9$ see you for$4$ myself," 
238:129,03['  ]| her visitor gallantly added.
238:129,04[A  ]| "I do not understand Ralph's plan; it seems to$4$ me 
238:129,05[A  ]| very wild," 
238:129,05['  ]| she said.  
238:129,05[A  ]| "I was glad to$9$ think of him
238:129,06[A  ]| between those thick walls at Gardencourt."
238:129,07[D  ]| "He was completely alone there; the thick walls
238:129,08[D  ]| were his only company."
238:129,09[A  ]| "You went to$9$ see him; you have been extremely 
238:129,10[A  ]| kind."
238:129,11[D  ]| "Oh dear, I had nothing to$9$ do," 
238:129,11['  ]| said Lord*Warburton.
238:129,12['  ]| 
238:129,13[A  ]| "We hear, on$4$ the contrary, that$3$ you are doing great
238:129,14[A  ]| things.  Every*one speaks of you as a great statesman,
238:129,15[A  ]| and I am perpetually seeing your name in$4$ the \Times\,
238:129,16[A  ]| which$6#1$, by$4$ the way, does not appear to$9$ hold it in$4$ reverence.
238:129,17[A  ]| You are apparently as wild as radical as ever."
238:129,18[D  ]| "I do not feel nearly so$5#1$ wild; you know the world
238:129,19[D  ]| has come round to$4$ me.  Touchett and I have kept up$5$
238:129,20[D  ]| a sort of parliamentary debate all the way from London.
238:129,21[D  ]| I tell him he is the last of the Tories, and he calls
238:129,22[D  ]| me the King of the Goths ~~ says I have, down to$4$ the
238:129,23[D  ]| details of my personal appearance, every sign of the 
238:129,24[D  ]| brute.  
238:129,24['  ]| So$3$ you see there is life in$4$ him yet."
238:129,25['  ]| Isabel had many questions to$9$ ask about Ralph,
238:129,26['  ]| but she abstained from asking them all.  She would
238:129,27['  ]| see for$4$ herself on$4$ the morrow.  She perceived that$3$ after
238:129,28['  ]| a little Lord*Warburton would tire of that$6#2$ subject ~~
238:129,29['  ]| he had a conception of other possible topics.  She
238:129,30['  ]| was more and more able to$9$ say to$4$ herself that$3$ 
238:129,30@a   | he had
238:129,31@a   | recovered, 
238:129,31['  ]| and, what is more to$4$ the point, she was 
238:129,32['  ]| able to$9$ say it without bitterness.  He had been for$4$ her,
238:130,01['  ]| of old, such an image of urgency, of insistence, of
238:130,02['  ]| something to$9$ be resisted and reasoned with, that$3$ his
238:130,03['  ]| reappearance at first menaced her with a new trouble.
238:130,04['  ]| But she was now reassured; she could see 
238:130,04@a   | he only
238:130,05@a   | wished to$9$ live with her on$4$ good terms, that$3$ she was
238:130,06@a   | to$9$ understand he had forgiven her and was incapable
238:130,07@a   | of the bad taste of making pointed allusions.  
238:130,07['  ]| This
238:130,08['  ]| was not a form of revenge, of course; she had no$2$ suspicion
238:130,09['  ]| of his wishing to$9$ punish her by$4$ an exhibition of 
238:130,10['  ]| disillusionment; she did him the justice to$9$ believe 
238:130,10@a   | it
238:130,11@a   | had simply occurred to$4$ him that$3$ she would now take 
238:130,12@a   | a good-natured interest in$4$ knowing he was resigned.
238:130,13@a   | It was the resignation of a healthy, manly nature,
238:130,14@a   | in$4$ which$6#1$ sentimental wounds could never fester.
238:130,15@a   | British politics had cured him; 
238:130,15['  ]| she had known they
238:130,16['  ]| would.  She gave an envious thought to$4$ the happier 
238:130,17['  ]| lot of men, who$6#1$ are always free to$9$ plunge into the 
238:130,18['  ]| healing waters of action.  Lord*Warburton of course
238:130,19['  ]| spoke of the past, but he spoke of it without implications;
238:130,20['  ]| he even went so$5#1$ far as to$9$ allude to$4$ their former
238:130,21['  ]| meeting in$4$ Rome as a very jolly time.  And he told her 
238:130,22@d   | he had been immensely interested in$4$ hearing of her
238:130,23@d   | marriage and that$3$ it was a great pleasure for$4$ him to$9$ 
238:130,24@d   | make Mr%*Osmond's acquaintance ~~ since he could
238:130,25@d   | hardly be said to$9$ have made it on$4$ the other occasion.
238:130,26['  ]| He had not written to$4$ her at the time of that$6#2$ passage 
238:130,27['  ]| in$4$ her history, but he did not apologise to$4$ her for$4$ this.
238:130,28['  ]| The only thing he implied was that$3$ they were old 
238:130,29['  ]| friends, intimate friends.  It was very much as an 
238:130,30['  ]| intimate friend that$3$ he said to$4$ her, suddenly after a 
238:130,31['  ]| short pause which$6#1$ he had occupied in$4$ smiling, as he
238:130,32['  ]| looked about him, like$4$ a person amused, at a provincial
238:131,01['  ]| entertainment, by$4$ some innocent game of 
238:131,02['  ]| guesses~~
238:131,03[D  ]| "Well now, I suppose you are very happy and all 
238:131,04[D  ]| that$6#2$ sort of thing?"
238:131,05['  ]| Isabel answered with a quick laugh; the tone of 
238:131,06['  ]| his remark struck her almost as the accent of comedy.
238:131,07[A  ]| "Do you suppose if I were not I would tell you?"
238:131,08[D  ]| "Well, I do not know.  I do not see why not."
238:131,09[A  ]| "I do then.  Fortunately, however, I am very 
238:131,10[A  ]| happy."
238:131,11[D  ]| "You have got an awfully good house."
238:131,12[A  ]| "Yes, it is very pleasant.  But that$6#2$ is not my merit
238:131,13[A  ]| ~~ it is my husband's."
238:131,14[D  ]| "You mean he has arranged it?"
238:131,15[A  ]| "Yes, it was nothing when we came."
238:131,16[D  ]| "He must be very clever."
238:131,17[A  ]| "He has a genius for$4$ upholstery," 
238:131,17['  ]| said Isabel.
238:131,18[D  ]| "There is a great rage for$4$ that$6#2$ sort of thing now.
238:131,19[D  ]| But you must have a taste of your own."
238:131,20[A  ]| "I enjoy things when they are done, but I have no$2$ 
238:131,21[A  ]| ideas.  I can never propose anything."
238:131,22[D  ]| "Do you mean you accept what others propose?"
238:131,23[A  ]| "Very willingly, for$4$ the most part."
238:131,24[D  ]| "That$6#2$ is a good thing to$9$ know.  I shall propose to$4$ 
238:131,25[D  ]| you something."
238:131,26[A  ]| "It will$1$ be very kind.  I must say, however, that$3$ 
238:131,27[A  ]| I have in$4$ a few small ways a certain initiative.  I should
238:131,28[A  ]| like$1$ for$4$ instance to$9$ introduce you to$4$ some of these 
238:131,29[A  ]| people."
238:131,30[D  ]| "Oh, please do not; I prefer sitting here.  Unless
238:131,31[D  ]| it be to$4$ that$6#2$ young lady in$4$ the blue dress.  She has a 
238:131,32[D  ]| charming face."
238:132,01[A  ]| "The one talking to$4$ the rosy young man?  That$6#2$ is
238:132,02[A  ]| my husband's daughter."
238:132,03[D  ]| "Lucky man, your husband.  What a dear little 
238:132,04[D  ]| maid!"
238:132,05[A  ]| "You must make her acquaintance."
238:132,06[D  ]| "In$4$ a moment ~~ with pleasure.  I like$1$ looking at 
238:132,07[D  ]| her from here."  
238:132,07['  ]| He ceased to$9$ look at her, however,
238:132,08['  ]| very soon; his eyes constantly reverted to$4$ Mrs%*Osmond.
238:132,09[D  ]| "Do you know I was wrong just now in$4$ saying 
238:132,10[D  ]| you had changed?"  
238:132,10['  ]| he presently went on$5$.  
238:132,10[D  ]| "You
238:132,11[D  ]| seem to$4$ me, after all, very much the same."
238:132,12[A  ]| "And yet I find it a great change to$9$ be married,"
238:132,13['  ]| said Isabel with mild gaiety.
238:132,14[D  ]| "It affects most people more than it has affected
238:132,15[D  ]| you.  You see I have not gone in$5$ for$4$ that$6#2$."
238:132,16[A  ]| "It rather surprises me."
238:132,17[D  ]| "You ought to$9$ understand it, Mrs%*Osmond.  But 
238:132,18[D  ]| I do want to$9$ marry," 
238:132,18['  ]| he added more simply.
238:132,19[A  ]| "It ought to$9$ be very easy," 
238:132,19['  ]| Isabel said, rising ~~
238:132,20['  ]| after which$6#1$ she reflected, with a pang perhaps too 
238:132,21['  ]| visible, that$3$ 
238:132,21@a   | she was hardly the person to$9$ say this.
238:132,22['  ]| It was perhaps because Lord*Warburton divined
238:132,23['  ]| the pang that$3$ he generously forbore to$9$ call her attention
238:132,24['  ]| to$4$ her not having contributed then to$4$ the 
238:132,25['  ]| facility.
238:132,26['  ]| Edward*Rosier had meanwhile seated himself on$4$ 
238:132,27['  ]| an ottoman beside Pansy's tea-table.  He pretended
238:132,28['  ]| at first to$9$ talk to$4$ her about trifles, and she asked him
238:132,29@k   | who$6#1$ was the new gentleman conversing with her stepmother.
238:132,30@k   | 
238:132,31[L  ]| "He is an English lord," 
238:132,31['  ]| said Rosier.  
238:132,31[L  ]| "I do not
238:132,32[L  ]| know more."
238:133,01[K  ]| "I wonder if he will$1$ have some tea.  The English are
238:133,02[K  ]| so$5#1$ fond of tea."
238:133,03[L  ]| "Never mind that$6#2$; I have something particular to$9$ 
238:133,04[L  ]| say to$4$ you."
238:133,05[K  ]| "Do not speak so$5#1$ loud ~~ every*one will$1$ hear," 
238:133,05['  ]| said 
238:133,06['  ]| Pansy.
238:133,07[L  ]| "They will$1$ not hear if you continue to$9$ look that$6#2$ way:
238:133,08[L  ]| as if your only thought in$4$ life was the wish the kettle
238:133,09[L  ]| would boil."
238:133,10[K  ]| "It has just been filled; the servants never know!"
238:133,11['  ]| ~~ and she sighed with the weight of her responsibility.
238:133,12['  ]| 
238:133,13[L  ]| "Do you know what your father said to$4$ me just 
238:133,14[L  ]| now?  That$3$ you did not mean what you said a week 
238:133,15[L  ]| ago."
238:133,16[K  ]| "I do not mean everything I say.  How can a young
238:133,17[K  ]| girl do that$6#2$?  But I mean what I say to$4$ \you\."
238:133,18[L  ]| "He told me you had forgotten me."
238:133,19[K  ]| "Ah no$7$, I do not forget," 
238:133,19['  ]| said Pansy, showing her
238:133,20['  ]| pretty teeth in$4$ a fixed smile.
238:133,21[L  ]| "Then everything is just the same?"
238:133,22[K  ]| "Ah no$7$, not the very same. Papa has been terribly
238:133,23[K  ]| severe."
238:133,24[L  ]| "What has he done to$4$ you?"
238:133,25[K  ]| "He asked me what \you\ had done to$4$ me, and I 
238:133,26[K  ]| told him everything.  Then he forbade me to$4$ marry
238:133,27[K  ]| you."
238:133,28[L  ]| "You need not mind that$6#2$."
238:133,29[K  ]| "Oh yes, I must indeed.  I can not disobey papa."
238:133,30[L  ]| "Not for$4$ one who$6#1$ loves you as I do, and whom you 
238:133,31[L  ]| pretend to$9$ love?"
238:133,32['  ]| She raised the lid of the tea-pot, gazing into this
238:134,01['  ]| vessel for$4$ a moment; then she dropped six words into 
238:134,02['  ]| its aromatic depths.  
238:134,02[K  ]| "I love you just as much."
238:134,03[L  ]| "What good will$1$ that$6#2$ do me?"
238:134,04[K  ]| "Ah," 
238:134,04['  ]| said Pansy, raising her sweet, vague eyes,
238:134,05[K  ]| "I do not know that$6#2$."
238:134,06[L  ]| "You disappoint me," 
238:134,06['  ]| groaned poor Rosier.
238:134,07['  ]| She was silent a little; she handed a tea-cup to$4$ a 
238:134,08['  ]| servant.  
238:134,08[K  ]| "Please do not talk any more."
238:134,09[L  ]| "Is this to$9$ be all my satisfaction?"
238:134,10[K  ]| "Papa said I was not to$9$ talk with you."
238:134,11[L  ]| "Do you sacrifice me like$4$ that$6#2$?  Ah, it is too 
238:134,12[L  ]| much!"
238:134,13[K  ]| "I wish you would wait a little," 
238:134,13['  ]| said the girl in$4$ a voice
238:134,14['  ]| just distinct enough to$9$ betray a quaver.
238:134,15[L  ]| "Of course I will$1$ wait if you will$1$ give me hope.  But
238:134,16[L  ]| you take my life away."
238:134,17[K  ]| "I will$1$ not give you up$5$ ~~ oh no$7$!" 
238:134,17['  ]| Pansy went on$5$.
238:134,18[L  ]| "He will$1$ try and make you marry some*one else."
238:134,19[K  ]| "I will$1$ never do that$6#2$."
238:134,20[L  ]| "What then are we to$9$ wait for$4$?"
238:134,21['  ]| She hesitated again.  
238:134,21[K  ]| "I will$1$ speak to$4$ Mrs%*Osmond
238:134,22[K  ]| and she will$1$ help us."  
238:134,22['  ]| It was in$4$ this manner that$3$ she 
238:134,23['  ]| for$4$ the most part designated her stepmother.
238:134,24[L  ]| "She will$1$ not help us much.  She is afraid."
238:134,25[K  ]| "Afraid of what?"
238:134,26[L  ]| "Of your father, I suppose."
238:134,27['  ]| Pansy shook her little head.  
238:134,27[K  ]| "She is not afraid of
238:134,28[K  ]| any*one.  We must have patience."
238:134,29[L  ]| "Ah, that$6#2$ is an awful word," 
238:134,29['  ]| Rosier groaned; he
238:134,30['  ]| was deeply disconcerted.  Oblivious of the customs
238:134,31['  ]| of good society, he dropped his head into his hands
238:134,32['  ]| and, supporting it with a melancholy grace, sat
238:135,01['  ]| staring at the carpet.  Presently he became aware
238:135,02['  ]| of a good deal of movement about him and, as he 
238:135,03['  ]| looked up$5$, saw Pansy making a curtsey ~~ it was
238:135,04['  ]| still her little curtsey of the convent ~~ to$4$ the English
238:135,05['  ]| lord whom Mrs%*Osmond had introduced.
239:136,01['  ]| It will$1$ probably not surprise the reflective reader that$3$
239:136,02['  ]| Ralph*Touchett should have seen less of his cousin
239:136,03['  ]| since her marriage than he had done before that$6#2$ event
239:136,04['  ]| ~~ an event of which$6#1$ he took such a view as could 
239:136,05['  ]| hardly prove a confirmation of intimacy.  He had
239:136,06['  ]| uttered his thought, as we know, and after this had
239:136,07['  ]| held his peace, Isabel not having invited him to$9$ 
239:136,08['  ]| resume a discussion which$6#1$ marked an era in$4$ their 
239:136,09['  ]| relations.  That$6#2$ discussion had made a difference ~~ 
239:136,10['  ]| the difference he feared rather than the one he hoped.
239:136,11['  ]| It had not chilled the girl's zeal in$4$ carrying out her
239:136,12['  ]| engagement, but it had come dangerously near to$4$ 
239:136,13['  ]| spoiling a friendship.  No$2$ reference was ever again
239:136,14['  ]| made between them to$4$ Ralph's opinion of Gilbert*Osmond,
239:136,15['  ]| and by$4$ surrounding this topic with a sacred
239:136,16['  ]| silence they managed to$9$ preserve a semblance of
239:136,17['  ]| reciprocal frankness.  
239:136,17@b   | But there was a difference, 
239:136,17['  ]| as
239:136,18['  ]| Ralph often said to$4$ himself ~~ 
239:136,18@b   | there was a difference.
239:136,19@b   | She had not forgiven him, she never would forgive
239:136,20@b   | him: that$6#2$ was all he had gained.  She thought she 
239:136,21@b   | had forgiven him; she believed she did not care; and
239:136,22@b   | as she was both very generous and very proud these
239:136,23@b   | convictions represented a certain reality.  But whether
239:136,24@b   | or no$2$ the event should justify him he would virtually
239:136,25@b   | have done her a wrong, and the wrong was of the sort 
239:136,26@b   | that$6#1$ women remember best.  As Osmond's wife she
239:136,27@b   | could never again be his friend.  If in$4$ this character she
239:137,01@b   | should enjoy the felicity she expected, she would have
239:137,02@b   | nothing but contempt for$4$ the man who$6#1$ had attempted,
239:137,03@b   | in$4$ advance; to$9$ undermine a blessing so$5#1$ dear; and if
239:137,04@b   | on$4$ the other hand his warning should be justified the
239:137,05@b   | vow she had taken that$3$ he should never know it would
239:137,06@b   | lay upon$4$ her spirit such a burden as to$9$ make her hate
239:137,07@b   | him.  
239:137,07['  ]| So$5#1$ dismal had been, during the year that$6#1$ followed
239:137,08['  ]| his cousin's marriage, Ralph's prevision of the 
239:137,09['  ]| future; and if his meditations appear morbid we
239:137,10['  ]| must remember he was not in$4$ the bloom of health.
239:137,11['  ]| He consoled himself as he might by$4$ behaving (as he
239:137,12['  ]| deemed) beautifully, and was present at the ceremony
239:137,13['  ]| by$4$ which$6#1$ Isabel was united to$4$ Mr%*Osmond, and 
239:137,14['  ]| which$6#1$ was performed in$4$ Florence in$4$ the month of June.
239:137,15['  ]| He learned from his mother that$3$ Isabel at first had
239:137,16['  ]| thought of celebrating her nuptials in$4$ her native land,
239:137,17['  ]| but that$3$ as simplicity was what she chiefly desired
239:137,18['  ]| to$9$ secure she had finally decided, in$4$ spite of Osmond's
239:137,19['  ]| professed willingness to$9$ make a journey of any length,
239:137,20['  ]| that$3$ this characteristic would be best embodied in$4$
239:137,21['  ]| their being married by$4$ the nearest clergyman in$4$ the 
239:137,22['  ]| shortest time.  The thing was done therefore at the 
239:137,23['  ]| little American chapel, on$4$ a very hot day, in$4$ the presence
239:137,24['  ]| only of Mrs%*Touchett and her son, of Pansy*Osmond 
239:137,25['  ]| and the Countess*Gemini.  That$6#2$ severity in$4$
239:137,26['  ]| the proceedings of which$6#1$ I just spoke was in$4$ part the 
239:137,27['  ]| result of the absence of two persons who$6#1$ might have 
239:137,28['  ]| been looked for$5$ on$4$ the occasion and who$6#1$ would have
239:137,29['  ]| lent it a certain richness.  Madame*Merle had been
239:137,30['  ]| invited, but Madame*Merle, who$6#1$ was unable to$9$ leave
239:137,31['  ]| Rome, had written a gracious letter of excuses.  Henrietta*Stackpole
239:137,32['  ]| had not been invited, as her departure 
239:138,01['  ]| from America, announced to$4$ Isabel by$4$ Mr%*Goodwood,
239:138,02['  ]| was in$4$ fact frustrated by$4$ the duties of her profession;
239:138,03['  ]| but she had sent a letter, less gracious than
239:138,04['  ]| Madame*Merle's, intimating that$3$, 
239:138,04@i   | had she been able
239:138,05@i   | to$9$ cross the Atlantic, she would have been present
239:138,06@i   | not only as a witness but as a critic.  
239:138,06['  ]| Her return to$4$
239:138,07['  ]| Europe had taken place somewhat later, and she had
239:138,08['  ]| effected a meeting with Isabel in$4$ the autumn, in$4$ Paris,
239:138,09['  ]| when she indulged ~~ perhaps a trifle too freely
239:138,10['  ]| ~~ her critical genius.  Poor Osmond, who$6#1$ was chiefly
239:138,11['  ]| the subject of it, had protested so$5#1$ sharply that$3$ Henrietta
239:138,12['  ]| was obliged to$9$ declare to$4$ Isabel that$3$ 
239:138,12@i   | she had
239:138,13@i   | taken a step which$6#1$ put a barrier between them.  
239:138,13[I  ]| "It
239:138,14[I  ]| is not in$4$ the least that$3$ you have married ~~ it is that$3$ you
239:138,15[I  ]| have married \him\," 
239:138,15['  ]| she had deemed it her duty to$9$ 
239:138,16['  ]| remark; agreeing, it will$1$ be seen, much more with 
239:138,17['  ]| Ralph*Touchett than she suspected, though she had
239:138,18['  ]| few of his hesitations and compunctions.  Henrietta's
239:138,19['  ]| second visit to$4$ Europe, however, was not apparently
239:138,20['  ]| to$9$ have been made in$4$ vain; for$3$ just at the moment
239:138,21['  ]| when Osmond had declared to$4$ Isabel that$3$ 
239:138,21@c   | he really
239:138,22@c   | must object to$4$ that$6#2$ newspaper-woman, 
239:138,22['  ]| and Isabel
239:138,23['  ]| had answered that$3$ 
239:138,23@a   | it seemed to$4$ her he took Henrietta
239:138,24@a   | too hard, 
239:138,24['  ]| the good Mr%*Bantling had appeared upon$4$ 
239:138,25['  ]| the scene and proposed that$3$ 
239:138,25@w   | they should take a run 
239:138,26@w   | down to$4$ Spain.  
239:138,26['  ]| Henrietta's letters from Spain had
239:138,27['  ]| proved the most acceptable she had yet published,
239:138,28['  ]| and there had been one in$4$ especial, dated from the 
239:138,29['  ]| Alhambra and entitled ""Moors and Moonlight,"" which$6#1$
239:138,30['  ]| generally passed for$4$ her masterpiece.  Isabel had been
239:138,31['  ]| secretly disappointed at her husband's not seeing his
239:138,32['  ]| way simply to$9$ take the poor girl for$4$ funny.  She even 
239:139,01['  ]| wondered 
239:139,01@a   | if his sense of fun, or of the funny ~~ which$6#1$
239:139,02@a   | would be his sense of humour, would not it? ~~ were
239:139,03@a   | by$4$ chance defective.  
239:139,03['  ]| Of course she herself looked at 
239:139,04['  ]| the matter as a person whose present happiness had
239:139,05['  ]| nothing to$9$ grudge to$4$ Henrietta's violated conscience.
239:139,06['  ]| Osmond had thought their alliance a kind of monstrosity;
239:139,07@c   | he could not imagine what they had in$4$ common.
239:139,08['  ]| For$4$ him, 
239:139,08@c   | Mr%*Bantling's fellow tourist was
239:139,09@c   | simply the most vulgar of women, 
239:139,09['  ]| and he had also
239:139,10['  ]| pronounced her 
239:139,10@c   | the most abandoned.  
239:139,10['  ]| Against this
239:139,11['  ]| latter clause of the verdict Isabel had appealed with
239:139,12['  ]| an ardour that$6#1$ had made him wonder afresh at the
239:139,13['  ]| oddity of some of his wife's tastes.  Isabel could
239:139,14['  ]| explain it only by$4$ saying that$3$ 
239:139,14@a   | she liked to$9$ know
239:139,15@a   | people who$6#1$ were as different as possible from herself.
239:139,16[C  ]| "Why then do not you make the acquaintance of your 
239:139,17[C  ]| washerwoman?" 
239:139,17['  ]| Osmond had enquired; to$4$ which$6#1$ 
239:139,18['  ]| Isabel had answered that$3$ 
239:139,18@a   | she was afraid her washerwoman
239:139,19@a   | would not care for$4$ her.  Now Henrietta cared
239:139,20@a   | so$5#1$ much.
239:139,21['  ]| Ralph had seen nothing of her for$4$ the greater part 
239:139,22['  ]| of the two years that$6#1$ had followed her marriage; the 
239:139,23['  ]| winter that$6#1$ formed the beginning of her residence in$4$ 
239:139,24['  ]| Rome he had spent again at San*Remo, where he had
239:139,25['  ]| been joined in$4$ the spring by$4$ his mother, who$6#1$ afterwards
239:139,26['  ]| had gone with him to$4$ England, to$9$ see what 
239:139,27['  ]| they were doing at the bank ~~ an operation she
239:139,28['  ]| could not induce him to$9$ perform.  Ralph had taken
239:139,29['  ]| a lease of his house at San*Remo, a small villa which$6#1$
239:139,30['  ]| he had occupied still another winter; but late in$4$ the 
239:139,31['  ]| month of April of this second year he had come down
239:139,32['  ]| to$4$ Rome.  It was the first time since her marriage that$3$
239:140,01['  ]| he had stood face to$4$ face with Isabel; his desire to$9$ see
239:140,02['  ]| her again was then of the keenest.  She had written
239:140,03['  ]| to$4$ him from time to$4$ time, but her letters told him
239:140,04['  ]| nothing he wanted to$9$ know.  He had asked his mother
239:140,05@b   | what she was making of her life, 
239:140,05['  ]| and his mother had
239:140,06['  ]| simply answered that$3$ 
239:140,06@g   | she supposed she was making 
239:140,07@g   | the best of it.  
239:140,07['  ]| Mrs%*Touchett had not the imagination
239:140,08['  ]| that$6#1$ communes with the unseen, and she now pretended
239:140,09['  ]| to$4$ no$2$ intimacy with her niece, whom she rarely
239:140,10['  ]| encountered.  This young woman appeared to$9$ be 
239:140,11['  ]| living in$4$ a sufficiently honourable way, but Mrs%*Touchett
239:140,12['  ]| still remained of the opinion that$3$ 
239:140,12@g   | her marriage 
239:140,13@g   | had been a shabby affair.  It had given her no$2$ 
239:140,14@g   | pleasure to$9$ think of Isabel's establishment, which$6#1$
239:140,15@g   | she was sure was a very lame business.  
239:140,15['  ]| From time
239:140,16['  ]| to$4$ time, in$4$ Florence, she rubbed against the Countess*Gemini,
239:140,17['  ]| doing her best always to$9$ minimise the contact;
239:140,18['  ]| and the Countess reminded her of Osmond,
239:140,19['  ]| who$6#1$ made her think of Isabel.  The Countess was less
239:140,20['  ]| talked of in$4$ these days; but Mrs%*Touchett augured
239:140,21['  ]| no$2$ good of that$6#2$: 
239:140,21@g   | it only proved how she had been 
239:140,22@g   | talked of before.  
239:140,22['  ]| There was a more direct suggestion
239:140,23['  ]| of Isabel in$4$ the person of Madame*Merle; but
239:140,24['  ]| Madame*Merle's relations with Mrs%*Touchett had
239:140,25['  ]| undergone a perceptible change.  Isabel's aunt had
239:140,26['  ]| told her, without circumlocution, that$3$ 
239:140,26@g   | she had played
239:140,27@g   | too ingenious a part; 
239:140,27['  ]| and Madame*Merle, who$6#1$ never
239:140,28['  ]| quarrelled with any*one, who$6#1$ appeared to$9$ think no*one
239:140,29['  ]| worth it, and who$6#1$ had performed the miracle of 
239:140,30['  ]| living, more or less, for$4$ several years with Mrs*Touchett
239:140,31['  ]| and showing no$2$ symptom of irritation ~~ Madame*Merle
239:140,32['  ]| now took a very high tone and declared
239:141,01['  ]| that$3$ 
239:141,01@h   | this was an accusation from which$6#1$ she could not
239:141,02@h   | stoop to$9$ defend herself.  
239:141,02['  ]| She added, however (without
239:141,03['  ]| stooping), 
239:141,03@h   | that$3$ her behaviour had been only too 
239:141,04@h   | simple, that$3$ she had believed only what she saw
239:141,05@h   | that$3$ she saw Isabel was not eager to$9$ marry and 
239:141,06@h   | Osmond not eager to$9$ please (his repeated visits had
239:141,07@h   | been nothing; he was boring himself to$4$ death on$4$ 
239:141,08@h   | his hill-top and he came merely for$4$ amusement).
239:141,09@h   | Isabel had kept her sentiments to$4$ herself, and her
239:141,10@h   | journey to$4$ Greece and Egypt had effectually thrown
239:141,11@h   | dust in$4$ her companion's eyes.  
239:141,11['  ]| Madame*Merle accepted
239:141,12['  ]| the event ~~ she was unprepared to$9$ think of 
239:141,13['  ]| it as a scandal; but that$3$ she had played any part
239:141,14['  ]| in$4$ it, double or single, was an imputation against
239:141,15['  ]| which$6#1$ she proudly protested.  It was doubtless in$4$
239:141,16['  ]| consequence of Mrs%*Touchett's attitude, and of the 
239:141,17['  ]| injury it offered to$4$ habits consecrated by$4$ many 
239:141,18['  ]| charming seasons, that$3$ Madame*Merle had, after
239:141,19['  ]| this, chosen to$9$ pass many months in$4$ England, where
239:141,20['  ]| her credit was quite unimpaired.  
239:141,20@h   | Mrs%*Touchett
239:141,21@h   | had done her a wrong; there are some things that$6#1$ 
239:141,22@h   | can not be forgiven.  
239:141,22['  ]| But Madame*Merle suffered in$4$ 
239:141,23['  ]| silence; there was always something exquisite in$4$ her
239:141,24['  ]| dignity.
239:141,25['  ]| Ralph, as I say, had wished to$9$ see for$4$ himself; but
239:141,26['  ]| while engaged in$4$ this pursuit he had yet felt afresh
239:141,27@b   | what a fool he had been to$9$ put the girl on$4$ her guard.
239:141,28@b   | He had played the wrong card, and now he had lost
239:141,29@b   | the game.  He should see nothing, he should learn 
239:141,30@b   | nothing; for$4$ him she would always wear a mask.
239:141,31['  ]| His true line would have been to$9$ profess delight in$4$
239:141,32['  ]| her union, so$3$ that$3$ later, when, as Ralph phrased it,
239:142,01@b   | the bottom should fall out of it, she might have the 
239:142,02@b   | pleasure of saying to$4$ him that$3$ he had been a goose.
239:142,03['  ]| He would gladly have consented to$9$ pass for$4$ a goose
239:142,04['  ]| in$4$ order to$9$ know Isabel's real situation.  At present,
239:142,05['  ]| however, she neither taunted him with his fallacies
239:142,06['  ]| nor pretended that$3$ her own confidence was justified;
239:142,07['  ]| if she wore a mask it completely covered her face.
239:142,08['  ]| There was something fixed and mechanical in$4$ the 
239:142,09['  ]| serenity painted on$4$ it; 
239:142,09@b   | this was not an expression,
239:142,10['  ]| Ralph said ~~ 
239:142,10@b   | it was a presentation, it was even an 
239:142,11@b   | advertisement.  
239:142,11['  ]| She had lost her child; that$6#2$ was a sorrow,
239:142,12['  ]| but it was a sorrow she scarcely spoke of; there
239:142,13['  ]| was more to$9$ say about it than she could say to$4$ Ralph.
239:142,14['  ]| It belonged to$4$ the past, moreover; it had occurred
239:142,15['  ]| six months before and she had already laid aside the 
239:142,16['  ]| tokens of mourning.  She appeared to$9$ be leading the 
239:142,17['  ]| life of the world; Ralph heard her spoken of as having
239:142,18['  ]| a "charming position."  He observed that$3$ 
239:142,18@b   | she 
239:142,19@b   | produced the impression of being peculiarly enviable,
239:142,20@b   | that$3$ it was supposed, among many people, to$9$ be a 
239:142,21@b   | privilege even to$9$ know her.  
239:142,21['  ]| Her house was not open
239:142,22['  ]| to$4$ every*one, and she had an evening in$4$ the week to$4$
239:142,23['  ]| which$6#1$ people were not invited as a matter of course.
239:142,24['  ]| She lived with a certain magnificence, but you needed
239:142,25['  ]| to$9$ be a member of her circle to$9$ perceive it; for$3$ there
239:142,26['  ]| was nothing to$9$ gape at, nothing to$9$ criticise, nothing 
239:142,27['  ]| even to$9$ admire, in$4$ the daily proceedings of Mr%* and 
239:142,28['  ]| Mrs%*Osmond.  Ralph, in$4$ all this, recognised the 
239:142,29['  ]| hand of the master; for$3$ he knew that$3$ Isabel had no$2$
239:142,30['  ]| faculty for$4$ producing studied impressions.  She struck
239:142,31['  ]| him 
239:142,31@b   | as having a great love of movement, of gaiety,
239:142,32@b   | of late hours, of long rides, of fatigue; an eagerness
239:143,01@b   | to$9$ be entertained, to$9$ be interested, even to$9$ be bored,
239:143,02@b   | to$9$ make acquaintances, to$9$ see people who$6#1$ were talked
239:143,03@b   | about, to$9$ explore the neighbourhood of Rome, to$9$ enter
239:143,04@b   | into relation with certain of the mustiest relics of 
239:143,05@b   | its old society.  
239:143,05['  ]| In$4$ all this there was much less discrimination
239:143,06['  ]| than in$4$ that$6#2$ desire for$4$ comprehensiveness
239:143,07['  ]| of development on$4$ which$6#1$ he had been used to$9$ exercise 
239:143,08['  ]| his wit.  There was a kind of violence in$4$ some of 
239:143,09['  ]| her impulses, of crudity in$4$ some of her experiments,
239:143,10['  ]| which$6#1$ took him by$4$ surprise: it seemed to$4$ him that$3$
239:143,11@b   | she even spoke faster, moved faster, breathed faster,
239:143,12@b   | than before her marriage.  Certainly she had fallen
239:143,13@b   | into exaggerations ~~ she who$6#1$ used to$9$ care so$5#1$ much
239:143,14@b   | for$4$ the pure truth; and whereas of old she had a great
239:143,15@b   | delight in$4$ good-humoured argument, in$4$ intellectual
239:143,16@b   | play (she never looked so$5#1$ charming as when in$4$ the 
239:143,17@b   | genial heat of discussion she received a crushing blow
239:143,18@b   | full in$4$ the face and brushed it away as a feather), she
239:143,19@b   | appeared now to$9$ think there was nothing worth people's
239:143,20@b   | either differing about or agreeing upon$4$.  Of old
239:143,21@b   | she had been curious, and now she was indifferent,
239:143,22@b   | and yet in$4$ spite of her indifference her activity was
239:143,23@b   | greater than ever.  Slender still, but lovelier than before, 
239:143,24@b   | she had gained no$2$ great maturity of aspect; yet 
239:143,25@b   | there was an amplitude and a brilliancy in$4$ her personal
239:143,26@b   | arrangements that$6#1$ gave a touch of insolence to$4$ 
239:143,27@b   | her beauty.  Poor human-hearted Isabel, what perversity 
239:143,28@b   | had bitten her?  Her light step drew a mass
239:143,29@b   | of drapery behind it; her intelligent head sustained
239:143,30@b   | a majesty of ornament.  The free, keen girl had become
239:143,31@b   | quite another person; 
239:143,31['  ]| what he saw was 
239:143,31@b   | the fine
239:143,32@b   | lady who$6#1$ was supposed to$9$ represent something.  What
239:144,01@b   | did Isabel represent?  
239:144,01['  ]| Ralph asked himself; and he
239:144,02['  ]| could only answer by$4$ saying that$3$ 
239:144,02@b   | she represented
239:144,03@b   | Gilbert*Osmond.  
239:144,03[B  ]| "Good heavens, what a function!"
239:144,04['  ]| he then woefully exclaimed.  He was lost in$4$ wonder
239:144,05['  ]| at the mystery of things.
239:144,06['  ]| He recognised Osmond, as I say; he recognised 
239:144,07['  ]| him at every turn.  He saw how he kept all things
239:144,08['  ]| within limits; how he adjusted, regulated, animated
239:144,09['  ]| their manner of life.  Osmond was in$4$ his element; at 
239:144,10['  ]| last he had material to$9$ work with.  He always had an 
239:144,11['  ]| eye to$4$ effect, and his effects were deeply calculated.
239:144,12['  ]| They were produced by$4$ no$2$ vulgar means, but the 
239:144,13['  ]| motive was as vulgar as the art was great.  To$9$ surround
239:144,14['  ]| his interior with a sort of invidious sanctity,
239:144,15['  ]| to$9$ tantalise society with a sense of exclusion, to$9$ make
239:144,16['  ]| people believe his house was different from every 
239:144,17['  ]| other, to$9$ impart to$4$ the face that$6#1$ he presented to$4$ the 
239:144,18['  ]| world a cold originality ~~ this was the ingenious 
239:144,19['  ]| effort of the personage to$4$ whom Isabel had attributed
239:144,20['  ]| a superior morality.  
239:144,20@b   | "He works with superior material,"
239:144,21['  ]| Ralph said to$4$ himself; 
239:144,21@b   | "it is rich abundance 
239:144,22@b   | compared with his former resources."  
239:144,22['  ]| Ralph was a 
239:144,23['  ]| clever man; but Ralph had never ~~ to$4$ his own sense
239:144,24['  ]| ~~ been so$5#1$ clever as when he observed, \8in*petto\, that$3$
239:144,25@b   | under the guise of caring only for$4$ intrinsic values
239:144,26@b   | Osmond lived exclusively for$4$ the world.  Far from
239:144,27@b   | being its master as he pretended to$9$ be, he was its
239:144,28@b   | very humble servant, and the degree of its attention
239:144,29@b   | was his only measure of success.  He lived with his
239:144,30@b   | eye on$4$ it from morning till night, and the world was
239:144,31@b   | so$5#1$ stupid it never suspected the trick.  Everything he 
239:144,32@b   | did was \pose ~~ pose\ so$5#1$ subtly considered that$3$ if one
239:145,01@b   | were not on$4$ the lookout one mistook it for$4$ impulse.
239:145,02['  ]| Ralph had never met a man who$6#1$ lived so$5#1$ much in$4$ 
239:145,03['  ]| the land of consideration.  His tastes, his studies,
239:145,04['  ]| his accomplishments, his collections, were all for$4$ a 
239:145,05['  ]| purpose.  
239:145,05@b   | His life on$4$ his hill-top at Florence had been
239:145,06@b   | the conscious attitude of years.  His solitude, his ennui,
239:145,07@b   | his love for$4$ his daughter, his good manners, his bad
239:145,08@b   | manners, were so$5#1$ many features of a mental image
239:145,09@b   | constantly present to$4$ him as a model of impertinence
239:145,10@b   | and mystification.  His ambition was not to$9$ please
239:145,11@b   | the world, but to$9$ please himself by$4$ exciting the world's
239:145,12@b   | curiosity and then declining to$9$ satisfy it.  It had made
239:145,13@b   | him feel great, ever, to$9$ play the world a trick.  The 
239:145,14@b   | thing he had done in$4$ his life most directly to$9$ please
239:145,15@b   | himself was his marrying Miss*Archer; though in$4$ 
239:145,16@b   | this case indeed the gullible world was in$4$ a manner
239:145,17@b   | embodied in$4$ poor Isabel, who$6#1$ had been mystified to$4$ 
239:145,18@b   | the top of her bent.  
239:145,18['  ]| Ralph of course found a fitness
239:145,19['  ]| in$4$ being consistent; he had embraced a creed, and
239:145,20['  ]| as he had suffered for$4$ it he could not in$4$ honour 
239:145,21['  ]| forsake it.  I give this little sketch of its articles for$4$
239:145,22['  ]| what they may at the time have been worth.  It was
239:145,23['  ]| certain that$3$ he was very skilful in$4$ fitting the facts to$4$ 
239:145,24['  ]| his theory ~~ even the fact that$3$ during the month
239:145,25['  ]| he spent in$4$ Rome at this period the husband of the 
239:145,26['  ]| woman he loved appeared to$9$ regard him not in$4$ the 
239:145,27['  ]| least as an enemy.
239:145,28['  ]| For$4$ Gilbert*Osmond Ralph had not now that$6#2$ importance.
239:145,29['  ]| It was not that$3$ he had the importance of 
239:145,30['  ]| a friend; it was rather that$3$ he had none at all.  
239:145,31@c   | He
239:145,31@c   | was Isabel's cousin and he was rather unpleasantly 
239:145,32@c   | ill ~~ 
239:145,32['  ]| it was on$4$ this basis that$3$ Osmond treated with 
239:146,01['  ]| him.  He made the proper enquiries, asked 
239:146,01@c   | about his
239:146,02@c   | health, about Mrs%*Touchett, about his opinion of 
239:146,03@c   | winter climates, whether he were comfortable at his
239:146,04@c   | hotel.  
239:146,04['  ]| He addressed him, on$4$ the few occasions of 
239:146,05['  ]| their meeting, not a word that$6#1$ was not necessary; 
239:146,06['  ]| but his manner had always the urbanity proper to$4$
239:146,07['  ]| conscious success in$4$ the presence of conscious failure.
239:146,08['  ]| For$4$ all this, Ralph had had, toward the end, a sharp
239:146,09['  ]| inward vision of Osmond's making it of small ease
239:146,10['  ]| to$4$ his wife that$3$ she should continue to$9$ receive Mr%*Touchett.
239:146,11['  ]| He was not jealous ~~ he had not that$6#2$
239:146,12['  ]| excuse; no*one could be jealous of Ralph.  But he
239:146,13['  ]| made Isabel pay for$4$ her old-time kindness, of which$6#1$
239:146,14['  ]| so$5#1$ much was still left; and as Ralph had no$2$ idea of
239:146,15['  ]| her paying too much, so$3$ when his suspicion had become
239:146,16['  ]| sharp, he had taken himself off.  In$4$ doing so$5#2$
239:146,17['  ]| he had deprived Isabel of a very interesting occupation:
239:146,18['  ]| she had been constantly wondering what fine
239:146,19['  ]| principle was keeping him alive.  She had decided
239:146,20['  ]| that$3$ 
239:146,20@a   | it was his love of conversation; his conversation
239:146,21@a   | had been better than ever.  He had given up$5$ walking;
239:146,22@a   | he was no$2$ longer a humorous stroller.  He sat all
239:146,23@a   | day in$4$ a chair ~~ almost any chair would serve, and 
239:146,24@a   | was so$5#1$ dependent on$4$ what you would do for$4$ him that$3$,
239:146,25@a   | had not his talk been highly contemplative, you might
239:146,26@a   | have thought he was blind.  
239:146,26['  ]| The reader already knows
239:146,27['  ]| more about him than Isabel was ever to$9$ know, and
239:146,28['  ]| the reader may therefore be given the key to$4$ the mystery.
239:146,29['  ]| What kept Ralph alive was simply the fact 
239:146,30['  ]| that$3$ he had not yet seen enough of the person in$4$ the 
239:146,31['  ]| world in$4$ whom he was most interested: he was not
239:146,32['  ]| yet satisfied.  There was more to$9$ come; he could not
239:147,01['  ]| make up$5$ his mind to$9$ lose that$6#2$.  He wanted to$9$ see
239:147,02['  ]| what she would make of her husband ~~ or what her
239:147,03['  ]| husband would make of her.  This was only the first
239:147,04['  ]| act of drama, and he was determined to$9$ sit out
239:147,05['  ]| the performance.  His determination had held good;
239:147,06['  ]| it had kept him going some eighteen months more,
239:147,07['  ]| till the time of his return to$4$ Rome with Lord*Warburton.
239:147,08['  ]| It had given him indeed such an air of intending
239:147,09['  ]| to$9$ live indefinitely that$3$ Mrs%*Touchett, though
239:147,10['  ]| more accessible to$4$ confusions of thought in$4$ the matter
239:147,11['  ]| of this strange, unremunerative ~~ and unremunerated
239:147,12['  ]| ~~ son of hers than she had ever been before,
239:147,13['  ]| had, as we have learned, not scrupled to$9$ embark
239:147,14['  ]| for$4$ a distant land.  If Ralph had been kept alive by$4$ 
239:147,15['  ]| suspense it was with a good deal of the same emotion
239:147,16['  ]| ~~ the excitement of wondering in$4$ what state
239:147,17['  ]| she should find him ~~ that$3$ Isabel mounted to$4$ his
239:147,18['  ]| apartment the day after Lord*Warburton had notified
239:147,19['  ]| her of his arrival in$4$ Rome.
239:147,20['  ]| She spent an hour with him; it was the first of 
239:147,21['  ]| several visits.  Gilbert*Osmond called on$4$ him punctually,
239:147,22['  ]| and on$4$ their sending their carriage for$4$ him
239:147,23['  ]| Ralph came more than once to$4$ Palazzo*Roccanera.
239:147,24['  ]| A fortnight elapsed, at the end of which$6#1$ Ralph announced
239:147,25['  ]| to$4$ Lord*Warburton that$3$ 
239:147,25@b   | he thought after
239:147,26@b   | all he would not go to$4$ Sicily.  
239:147,26['  ]| The two men had
239:147,27['  ]| been dining together after a day spent by$4$ the latter 
239:147,28['  ]| in$4$ ranging about the Campagna.  They had left the
239:147,29['  ]| table, and Warburton, before the chimney, was lighting
239:147,30['  ]| a cigar, which$6#1$ he instantly removed from his
239:147,31['  ]| lips.
239:147,32[D  ]| "will$1$ not go to$4$ Sicily?  Where then will$1$ you go?"
239:148,01[B  ]| "Well, I guess I will$1$ not go anywhere," 
239:148,01['  ]| said Ralph,
239:148,02['  ]| from the sofa, all shamelessly.
239:148,03[D  ]| "Do you mean you will$1$ return to$4$ England?"
239:148,04[B  ]| "Oh dear no$7$; I will$1$ stay in$4$ Rome."
239:148,05[D  ]| "Rome will$1$ not do for$4$ you.  Rome is not warm 
239:148,06[D  ]| enough."
239:148,07[B  ]| "It will$1$ have to$9$ do.  I will$1$ make it do.  See how well
239:148,08[B  ]| I have been."
239:148,09['  ]| Lord*Warburton looked at him a while, puffing a 
239:148,10['  ]| cigar and as if trying to$9$ see it.  
239:148,10[D  ]| "You have been better
239:148,11[D  ]| than you were on$4$ the journey, certainly.  I wonder 
239:148,12[D  ]| how you lived through that$6#2$.  But I do not understand
239:148,13[D  ]| your condition.  I recommend you to$9$ try Sicily."
239:148,14[B  ]| "I can not try," 
239:148,14['  ]| said poor Ralph.  
239:148,14[B  ]| "I have done trying.
239:148,15[B  ]| I can not move further.  I can not face that$6#2$ journey.
239:148,16[B  ]| Fancy me between Scylla and Charybdis!  I do not
239:148,17[B  ]| want to$9$ die on$4$ the Sicilian plains ~~ to$9$ be snatched
239:148,18[B  ]| away, like$4$ Proserpine in$4$ the same locality, to$4$ the 
239:148,19[B  ]| Plutonian shades."
239:148,20[D  ]| "What the deuce then did you come for$4$?" 
239:148,20['  ]| his 
239:148,21['  ]| lordship enquired.
239:148,22[B  ]| "Because the idea took me.  I see it will$1$ not do.  It 
239:148,23[B  ]| really does not matter where I am now.  I have exhausted
239:148,24[B  ]| all remedies, I have swallowed all climates.  As I am
239:148,25[B  ]| here I will$1$ stay.  I have not a single cousin in$4$ Sicily ~~
239:148,26[B  ]| much less a married one."
239:148,27[D  ]| "Your cousin is certainly an inducement.  But what 
239:148,28[D  ]| does the doctor say?"
239:148,29[B  ]| "I have not asked him, and I do not care a fig.  If I
239:148,30[B  ]| die here Mrs%*Osmond will$1$ bury me.  But I shall not
239:148,31[B  ]| die here."
239:148,32[D  ]| "I hope not."  
239:148,32['  ]| Lord*Warburton continued to$9$ smoke
239:149,01['  ]| reflectively.  
239:149,01[D  ]| "Well, I must say," 
239:149,01['  ]| he resumed, 
239:149,01[D  ]| "for$4$
239:149,02[D  ]| myself I am very glad you do not insist on$4$ Sicily.  I
239:149,03[D  ]| had a horror of that$6#2$ journey."
239:149,04[B  ]| "Ah, but for$4$ you it need not have mattered.  I had
239:149,05[B  ]| no$2$ idea of dragging you in$4$ my train."
239:149,06[D  ]| "I certainly did not mean to$9$ let you go alone."
239:149,07[B  ]| "My dear Warburton, I never expected you to$9$ come
239:149,08[B  ]| further than this," 
239:149,08['  ]| Ralph cried.
239:149,09[D  ]| "I should have gone with you and seen you settled," 
239:149,10['  ]| said Lord*Warburton.
239:149,11[B  ]| "You are a very good Christian.  You are a very 
239:149,12[B  ]| kind man."
239:149,13[D  ]| "Then I should have come back here."
239:149,14[B  ]| "And then you would have gone to$4$ England."
239:149,15[D  ]| "No$7$, no$7$; I should have stayed."
239:149,16[B  ]| "Well," 
239:149,16['  ]| said Ralph, 
239:149,16[B  ]| "if that$6#2$ is what we are both
239:149,17[B  ]| up$4$ to$4$, I do not see where Sicily comes in$5$!"
239:149,18['  ]| His companion was silent; he sat staring at the 
239:149,19['  ]| fire.  At last, looking up$5$, 
239:149,19[D  ]| "I say, tell me this," 
239:149,19['  ]| he
239:149,20['  ]| broke out; 
239:149,20[D  ]| "did you really mean to$9$ go to$4$ Sicily
239:149,21[D  ]| when we started?"
239:149,22[B  ]| "Ah, \9vous 9m'en 9demandez 9trop\!  Let me put a question
239:149,23[B  ]| first.  Did you come with me quite ~~ platonically?"
239:149,24[B  ]| 
239:149,25[D  ]| "I do not know what you mean by$4$ that$6#2$.  I wanted
239:149,26[D  ]| to$9$ come abroad."
239:149,27[B  ]| "I suspect we have each been playing our little game."
239:149,28[D  ]| "Speak for$4$ yourself.  I made no$2$ secret whatever of 
239:149,29[D  ]| my desiring to$9$ be here a while."
239:149,30[B  ]| "Yes, I remember you said you wished to$9$ see the 
239:149,31[B  ]| Minister of Foreign Affairs."
239:149,32[D  ]| "I have seen him three times.  He is very amusing."
239:150,01[B  ]| "I think you have forgotten what you came for$4$:
239:150,02['  ]| said Ralph.
239:150,03[D  ]| "Perhaps I have," 
239:150,03['  ]| his companion answered rather
239:150,04['  ]| gravely.
239:150,05['  ]| These two were gentlemen of a race which$6#1$ is not
239:150,06['  ]| distinguished by$4$ the absence of reserve, and they had
239:150,07['  ]| travelled together from London to$4$ Rome without an 
239:150,08['  ]| allusion to$4$ matters that$6#1$ were uppermost in$4$ the mind 
239:150,09['  ]| of each.  There was an old subject they had once discussed,
239:150,10['  ]| but it had lost its recognised place in$4$ their
239:150,11['  ]| attention, and even after their arrival in$4$ Rome, where
239:150,12['  ]| many things led back to$4$ it, they had kept the same 
239:150,13['  ]| half-diffident, half-confident silence.
239:150,14[D  ]| "I recommend you to$9$ get the doctor's consent, all
239:150,15[D  ]| the same,"  
239:150,15['  ]| Lord*Warburton went on$5$, abruptly, after
239:150,16['  ]| an interval.
239:150,17[B  ]| "The doctor's consent will$1$ spoil it.  I never have
239:150,18[B  ]| it when I can help it."
239:150,19[D  ]| "What then does Mrs%*Osmond think?"  
239:150,19['  ]| Ralph's
239:150,20['  ]| friend demanded.
239:150,21[B  ]| "I have not told her.  She will$1$ probably say that$3$ Rome is
239:150,22[B  ]| too cold and even offer to$9$ go with me to$4$ Catania.
239:150,23[B  ]| She is capable of that$6#2$."
239:150,24[D  ]| "In$4$ your place I should like$1$ it."
239:150,25[B  ]| "Her husband will$1$ not like$1$ it."
239:150,26[D  ]| "Ah well, I can fancy that$6#2$; though it seems to$4$ me 
239:150,27[D  ]| you are not bound to$9$ mind his likings.  They are his
239:150,28[D  ]| affair."
239:150,29[B  ]| "I do not want to$9$ make any more trouble between
239:150,30[B  ]| them," 
239:150,30['  ]| said Ralph.
239:150,31[D  ]| "Is there so$5#1$ much already?"
239:150,32[B  ]| "There is complete preparation for$4$ it.  Her going
239:151,01[B  ]| off with me would make the explosion.  Osmond is not
239:151,02[B  ]| fond of his wife's cousin."
239:151,03[D  ]| "Then of course he would make a row.  But will$1$ not he
239:151,04[D  ]| make a row if you stop here?"
239:151,05[B  ]| "That$6#2$ is what I want to$9$ see.  He made one the last 
239:151,06[B  ]| time I was in$4$ Rome, and then I thought it my duty 
239:151,07[B  ]| to$9$ disappear.  Now I think it is my duty to$9$ stop and 
239:151,08[B  ]| defend her."
239:151,09[D  ]| "My dear Touchett, your defensive powers ~~ !"
239:151,10['  ]| Lord*Warburton began with a smile.  But he saw 
239:151,11['  ]| something in$4$ his companion's face that$6#1$ checked him.
239:151,12[D  ]| "Your duty, in$4$ these premises, seems to$4$ me rather
239:151,13[D  ]| a nice question," 
239:151,13['  ]| he observed instead.
239:151,14['  ]| Ralph for$4$ a short time answered nothing.  
239:151,14[B  ]| "It is
239:151,15[B  ]| true that$3$ my defensive powers are small," 
239:151,15['  ]| he returned
239:151,16['  ]| at last; 
239:151,16[B  ]| "but as my aggressive ones are still smaller
239:151,17[B  ]| Osmond may after all not think me worth his gun-powder.
239:151,18[B  ]| At any rate," 
239:151,18['  ]| he added, 
239:151,18[B  ]| "there are things
239:151,19[B  ]| I am curious to$9$ see."
239:151,20[D  ]| "You are sacrificing your health to$4$ your curiosity
239:151,21[D  ]| then?"
239:151,22[B  ]| "I am not much interested in$4$ my health, and I am
239:151,23[B  ]| deeply interested in$4$ Mrs%*Osmond."
239:151,24[D  ]| "So$5#2$ am I.  But not as I once was,"  
239:151,24['  ]| Lord*Warburton
239:151,25['  ]| added quickly.  This was one of the allusions he 
239:151,26['  ]| had not hitherto found occasion to$9$ make.
239:151,27[B  ]| "Does she strike you as very happy?"  
239:151,27['  ]| Ralph enquired,
239:151,28['  ]| emboldened by$4$ this confidence.
239:151,29[D  ]| "Well, I do not know; I have hardly thought.  She
239:151,30[D  ]| told me the other night she was happy."
239:151,31[B  ]| "Ah, she told \you\, of course," 
239:151,31['  ]| Ralph exclaimed,
239:151,32['  ]| smiling.
239:152,01[D  ]| "I do not know that$6#2$.  It seems to$4$ me I was rather
239:152,02[D  ]| the sort of person she might have complained to$4$."
239:152,03[B  ]| "Complained?  She will$1$ never complain.  She has
239:152,04[B  ]| done it ~~ what she \has\ done ~~ and she knows it.  
239:152,05[B  ]| She will$1$ complain to$4$ you least of all.  She is very careful."
239:152,06[B  ]| 
239:152,07[D  ]| "She need not be.  I do not mean to$9$ make love to$4$ 
239:152,08[D  ]| her again."
239:152,09[B  ]| "I am delighted to$9$ hear it.  There can be no$2$
239:152,10[B  ]| doubt at least of \your\ duty."
239:152,11[D  ]| "Ah no$7$," 
239:152,11['  ]| said Lord*Warburton gravely; 
239:152,11[D  ]| "none."
239:152,12[B  ]| "Permit me to$9$ ask," 
239:152,12['  ]| Ralph went on$5$, 
239:152,12[B  ]| "whether
239:152,13[B  ]| it is to$9$ bring out the fact that$3$ you do not mean to$9$ make
239:152,14[B  ]| love to$4$ her that$3$ you are so$5#1$ very civil to$4$ the little girl?"
239:152,15['  ]| Lord*Warburton gave a slight start; he got up$5$
239:152,16['  ]| and stood before the fire, looking at it hard.  
239:152,16[D  ]| "Does
239:152,17[D  ]| that$6#2$ strike you as very ridiculous?"
239:152,18[B  ]| "Ridiculous?  Not in$4$ the least, if you really like$1$
239:152,19[B  ]| her."
239:152,20[D  ]| "I think her a delightful little person.  I do not know
239:152,21[D  ]| when a girl of that$6#2$ age has pleased me more."
239:152,22[B  ]| "She is a charming creature.  Ah, she at least is
239:152,23[B  ]| genuine."
239:152,24[D  ]| "Of course there is the difference in$4$ our ages ~~ 
239:152,25[D  ]| more than twenty years."
239:152,26[B  ]| "My dear Warburton," 
239:152,26['  ]| said Ralph, 
239:152,26[B  ]| "are you 
239:152,27[B  ]| serious?"
239:152,28[D  ]| "Perfectly serious ~~ as far as I have got."
239:152,29[B  ]| "I am very glad.  And, heaven help us," 
239:152,29['  ]| cried
239:152,30['  ]| Ralph, 
239:152,30[B  ]| "how cheered-up old Osmond will$1$ be!"
239:152,31['  ]| His companion frowned.  
239:152,31[D  ]| "I say, do not spoil it. I 
239:152,32[D  ]| should not propose for$4$ his daughter to$9$ please \him\." 
239:153,01[B  ]| "He will$1$ have the perversity to$9$ be pleased all the 
239:153,02[B  ]| same."
239:153,03[D  ]| "He is not so$5#1$ fond of me as that$6#2$," 
239:153,03['  ]| said his lordship.
239:153,04['  ]| 
239:153,05[B  ]| "As that$6#2$?  My dear Warburton, the drawback of 
239:153,06[B  ]| your position is that$3$ people need not be fond of you
239:153,07[B  ]| at all to$9$ wish to$9$ be connected with you.  Now, with
239:153,08[B  ]| me in$4$ such a case, I should have the happy confidence
239:153,09[B  ]| that$3$ they loved me."
239:153,10['  ]| Lord*Warburton seemed scarcely in$4$ the mood for$4$
239:153,11['  ]| doing justice to$4$ general axioms ~~ he was thinking of
239:153,12['  ]| a special case.  
239:153,12[D  ]| "Do you judge she will$1$ be pleased?"
239:153,13[B  ]| "The girl herself?  Delighted, surely."
239:153,14[D  ]| "No$7$, no$7$; I mean Mrs%*Osmond."
239:153,15['  ]| Ralph looked at him a moment.  
239:153,15[B  ]| "My dear fellow,
239:153,16[B  ]| what has she to$9$ do with it?"
239:153,17[D  ]| "Whatever she chooses.  She is very fond of Pansy."
239:153,18[B  ]| "Very true ~~ very true."  
239:153,18['  ]| And Ralph slowly got
239:153,19['  ]| up$5$.  
239:153,19[B  ]| "It is an interesting question ~~ how far her
239:153,20[B  ]| fondness for$4$ Pansy will$1$ carry her."  
239:153,20['  ]| He stood there 
239:153,21['  ]| a moment with his hands in$4$ his pockets and rather
239:153,22['  ]| a clouded brow.  
239:153,22[B  ]| "I hope, you know, that$3$ you are very
239:153,23[B  ]| ~~ very sure.  The deuce!" 
239:153,23['  ]| he broke off.  
239:153,23[B  ]| "I do not 
239:153,24[B  ]| know how to$9$ say it."
239:153,25[D  ]| "Yes, you do; you know how to$9$ say everything."
239:153,26[B  ]| "Well, it is awkward.  I hope you are sure that$3$ 
239:153,27[B  ]| among Miss*Osmond's merits her being ~~ a ~~ so$5#1$ 
239:153,28[B  ]| near her stepmother is not a leading one?"
239:153,29[D  ]| "Good heavens, Touchett!" 
239:153,29['  ]| cried Lord*Warburton
239:153,30['  ]| angrily, 
239:153,30[D  ]| "for$4$ what do you take me?"
240:154,01['  ]| Isabel had not seen much of Madame*Merle since
240:154,02['  ]| her marriage, this lady having indulged in$4$ frequent
240:154,03['  ]| absences from Rome.  At one time she had spent six
240:154,04['  ]| months in$4$ England; at another she had passed a portion 
240:154,05['  ]| of a winter in$4$ Paris.  She had made numerous
240:154,06['  ]| visits to$4$ distant friends and gave countenance to$4$ the 
240:154,07['  ]| idea that$3$ for$4$ the future she should be a less inveterate
240:154,08['  ]| Roman than in$4$ the past.  As she had been inveterate
240:154,09['  ]| in$4$ the past only in$4$ the sense of constantly having an 
240:154,10['  ]| apartment in$4$ one of the sunniest niches of the Pincian
240:154,11['  ]| ~~ an apartment which$6#1$ often stood empty ~~ this
240:154,12['  ]| suggested a prospect of almost constant absence; a 
240:154,13['  ]| danger which$6#1$ Isabel at one period had been much 
240:154,14['  ]| inclined to$9$ deplore.  Familiarity had modified in$4$ some
240:154,15['  ]| degree her first impression of Madame*Merle, but it
240:154,16['  ]| had not essentially altered it; there was still much 
240:154,17['  ]| wonder of admiration in$4$ it.  That$6#2$ personage was
240:154,18['  ]| armed at all points; it was a pleasure to$9$ see a character 
240:154,19['  ]| so$5#1$ completely equipped for$4$ the social battle.
240:154,20['  ]| She carried her flag discreetly, but her weapons were 
240:154,21['  ]| polished steel, and she used them with a skill which$6#1$
240:154,22['  ]| struck Isabel as more and more that$6#2$ of a veteran.
240:154,23@a   | She was never weary, never overcome with disgust;
240:154,24@a   | she never appeared to$9$ need rest or consolation.  She
240:154,25@a   | had her own ideas; 
240:154,25['  ]| she had of old exposed a great 
240:154,26['  ]| many of them to$4$ Isabel, who$6#1$ knew also that$3$ 
240:154,26@a   | under
240:154,27@a   | an appearance of extreme self-control her highly-cultivated
240:155,01@a   | friend concealed a rich sensibility.  But
240:155,02@a   | her will$0$ was mistress of her life; there was something
240:155,03@a   | gallant in$4$ the way she kept going.  It was as if she
240:155,04@a   | had learned the secret of it ~~ as if the art of life were 
240:155,05@a   | some clever trick she had guessed.  
240:155,05['  ]| Isabel, as she herself
240:155,06['  ]| grew older, became acquainted with revulsions, 
240:155,07['  ]| with disgusts; there were days when the world looked
240:155,08['  ]| black and she asked herself with some sharpness
240:155,09@a   | what it was that$6#1$ she was pretending to$9$ live for$4$.  Her
240:155,10@a   | old habit had been to$9$ live by$4$ enthusiasm, to$9$ fall in$4$ 
240:155,11@a   | love with suddenly-perceived possibilities, with the
240:155,12@a   | idea of some new adventure.  As a younger person
240:155,13@a   | she had been used to$9$ proceed from one little exaltation
240:155,14@a   | to$4$ the other: there were scarcely any dull places
240:155,15@a   | between.  But Madame*Merle had suppressed enthusiasm; 
240:155,16@a   | she fell in$4$ love now-a-days with nothing;
240:155,17@a   | she lived entirely by$4$ reason and by$4$ wisdom.  
240:155,17['  ]| There
240:155,18['  ]| were hours when Isabel would have given anything 
240:155,19['  ]| for$4$ lessons in$4$ this art; if her brilliant friend had been
240:155,20['  ]| near she would have made an appeal to$4$ her.  She
240:155,21['  ]| had become aware more than before of the advantage
240:155,22['  ]| of being like$4$ that$6#2$ ~~ of having made one's self
240:155,23['  ]| a firm surface, a sort of corselet of silver.
240:155,24['  ]| But, as I say, it was not till the winter during which$6#1$
240:155,25['  ]| we lately renewed acquaintance with our heroine that$3$
240:155,26['  ]| the personage in$4$ question made again a continuous
240:155,27['  ]| stay in$4$ Rome.  Isabel now saw more of her than she
240:155,28['  ]| had done since her marriage; but by$4$ this time Isabel's
240:155,29['  ]| needs and inclinations had considerably changed.
240:155,30['  ]| It was not at present to$4$ Madame*Merle that$3$ she
240:155,31['  ]| would have applied for$4$ instruction; she had lost the 
240:155,32['  ]| desire to$9$ know this lady's clever trick.  
240:155,32@a   | If she had
240:156,01@a   | troubles she must keep them to$4$ herself, and if life
240:156,02@a   | was difficult it would not make it easier to$9$ confess
240:156,03@a   | herself beaten.  Madame*Merle was doubtless of 
240:156,04@a   | great use to$4$ herself and an ornament to$4$ any circle;
240:156,05@a   | but was she ~~ would she be ~~ of use to$4$ others in$4$ 
240:156,06@a   | periods of refined embarrassment?  The best way 
240:156,07@a   | to$9$ profit by$4$ her friend ~~ 
240:156,07['  ]| this indeed Isabel had always
240:156,08['  ]| thought ~~ 
240:156,08@a   | was to$9$ imitate her, to$9$ be as firm and 
240:156,09@a   | bright as she.  She recognised no$2$ embarrassments,
240:156,10['  ]| and Isabel, considering this fact, determined for$4$ the 
240:156,11['  ]| fiftieth time to$9$ 
240:156,11@a   | brush aside her own.  
240:156,11['  ]| It seemed to$4$ 
240:156,12['  ]| her too, on$4$ the renewal of an intercourse which$6#1$ had 
240:156,13['  ]| virtually been interrupted, that$3$ 
240:156,13@a   | her old ally was different,
240:156,14@a   | was almost detached ~~ pushing to$4$ the extreme
240:156,15@a   | a certain rather artificial fear of being indiscreet.
240:156,16['  ]| Ralph*Touchett, we know, had been of the 
240:156,17['  ]| opinion that$3$ she was prone to$4$ exaggeration, to$4$ forcing
240:156,18['  ]| the note ~~ was apt, in$4$ the vulgar phrase, to$9$ overdo
240:156,19['  ]| it.  Isabel had never admitted this charge ~~ had
240:156,20['  ]| never indeed quite understood it; Madame*Merle's
240:156,21['  ]| conduct, to$4$ her perception, always bore the stamp
240:156,22['  ]| of good taste, was always "quiet".  But in$4$ this matter 
240:156,23['  ]| of not wishing to$9$ intrude upon$4$ the inner life of 
240:156,24['  ]| the Osmond family it at last occurred to$4$ our young
240:156,25['  ]| woman that$3$ she overdid a little.  That$6#2$ of course
240:156,26['  ]| was not the best taste; that$6#2$ was rather violent.  She
240:156,27['  ]| remembered too much that$3$ Isabel was married; that$3$
240:156,28['  ]| she had now other interests; that$3$ though she, Madame*Merle,
240:156,29['  ]| had known Gilbert*Osmond and his little 
240:156,30['  ]| Pansy very well, better almost than any*one, she
240:156,31['  ]| was not after all of the inner circle.  
240:156,31@a   | She was on$4$ her 
240:156,32@a   | guard; she never spoke of their affairs till she was
240:157,01@a   | asked, even pressed ~~ as when her opinion was
240:157,02@a   | wanted; she had a dread of seeming to$9$ meddle.  
240:157,02['  ]| Madame*Merle
240:157,03['  ]| was as candid as we know, and one day
240:157,04['  ]| she candidly expressed this dread to$4$ Isabel.
240:157,05[H  ]| "I \must\ be on$4$ my guard," 
240:157,05['  ]| she said; 
240:157,05[H  ]| "I might so$5#1$
240:157,06[H  ]| easily, without suspecting it, offend you.  You would
240:157,07[H  ]| be right to$9$ be offended, even if my intention should
240:157,08[H  ]| have been of the purest.  I must not forget that$3$ I knew
240:157,09[H  ]| your husband long before you did; I must not let
240:157,10[H  ]| that$6#2$ betray me.  If you were a silly woman you might
240:157,11[H  ]| be jealous.  You are not a silly woman; I know that$6#2$ 
240:157,12[H  ]| perfectly.  But neither am I; therefore I am determined
240:157,13[H  ]| not to$9$ get into trouble.  A little harm is very
240:157,14[H  ]| soon done; a mistake is made before one knows it.
240:157,15[H  ]| Of course if I had wished to$9$ make love to$4$ your husband
240:157,16[H  ]| I had ten years to$9$ do it in$4$, and nothing to$9$ prevent;
240:157,17[H  ]| so$3$ it is not likely I shall begin to-day, when I am
240:157,18[H  ]| so$5#1$ much less attractive than I was.  But if I were to$9$
240:157,19[H  ]| annoy you by$4$ seeming to$9$ take a place that$6#1$ does not 
240:157,20[H  ]| belong to$4$ me, you would not make that$6#2$ reflection;
240:157,21[H  ]| you would simply say I was forgetting certain differences.
240:157,22[H  ]| I am determined not to$9$ forget them.  Certainly a good
240:157,23[H  ]| friend is not always thinking of that$6#2$; one does not
240:157,24[H  ]| suspect one's friends of injustice.  I do not suspect
240:157,25[H  ]| you, my dear, in$4$ the least; but I suspect human nature.
240:157,26[H  ]| Do not think I make myself uncomfortable; I am
240:157,27[H  ]| not always watching myself.  I think I sufficiently
240:157,28[H  ]| prove it in$4$ talking to$4$ you as I do now.  All I wish to$9$ 
240:157,29[H  ]| say is, however, that$3$ if you were to$9$ be jealous ~~ that$6#2$ is
240:157,30[H  ]| the form it would take ~~ I should be sure to$9$ think it
240:157,31[H  ]| was a little my fault.  It certainly would not be your 
240:157,32[H  ]| husband's."
240:158,01['  ]| Isabel had had three years to$9$ think over Mrs%*Touchett's
240:158,02['  ]| theory that$3$ Madame*Merle had made 
240:158,03['  ]| Gilbert*Osmond's marriage.  We know how she had
240:158,04['  ]| at first received it.  
240:158,04@a   | Madame*Merle might have made
240:158,05@a   | Gilbert*Osmond's marriage, but she certainly had
240:158,06@a   | not made Isabel*Archer's.  That$6#2$ was the work of ~~
240:158,07['  ]| Isabel scarcely knew what: 
240:158,07@a   | of nature, providence,
240:158,08@a   | fortune, of the eternal mystery of things.  It was true
240:158,09@a   | her aunt's complaint had been not so$5#1$ much of Madame*Merle's
240:158,10@a   | activity as of her duplicity: she had
240:158,11@a   | brought about the strange event and then she had denied
240:158,12@a   | her guilt.  Such guilt would not have been great, 
240:158,13['  ]| to$4$ Isabel's mind; 
240:158,13@a   | she could not make a crime of Madame*Merle's
240:158,14@a   | having been the producing cause of the 
240:158,15@a   | most important friendship she had ever formed.  
240:158,15['  ]| This
240:158,16['  ]| had occurred to$4$ her just before her marriage, after her
240:158,17['  ]| little discussion with her aunt and at a time when she 
240:158,18['  ]| was still capable of that$6#2$ large inward reference, the 
240:158,19['  ]| tone almost of the philosophic historian, to$4$ her scant
240:158,20['  ]| young annals.  
240:158,20@a   | If Madame*Merle had desired her
240:158,21@a   | change of state she could only say it had been a very 
240:158,22@a   | happy thought.  With her, moreover, she had been
240:158,23@a   | perfectly straightforward; she had never concealed
240:158,24@a   | her high opinion of Gilbert*Osmond.  
240:158,24['  ]| After their 
240:158,25['  ]| union Isabel discovered that$3$ her husband took a 
240:158,26['  ]| less convenient view of the matter; he seldom consented 
240:158,27['  ]| to$9$ finger, in$4$ talk, this roundest and smoothest
240:158,28['  ]| bead of their social rosary.
240:158,29[A  ]| "Do not you like$1$ Madame*Merle?"  
240:158,29['  ]| Isabel had 
240:158,30['  ]| once said to$4$ him.  
240:158,30[A  ]| "She thinks a great deal of you."
240:158,31[C  ]| "I will$1$ tell you once for$4$ all," 
240:158,31['  ]| Osmond had answered.
240:158,32[C  ]| "I liked her once better than I do to-day.  I am tired
240:159,01[C  ]| of her, and I am rather ashamed of it.  She is so$5#1$ almost
240:159,02[C  ]| unnaturally good!  I am glad she is not in$4$ Italy;
240:159,03[C  ]| it makes for$4$ relaxation ~~ for$4$ a sort of moral \9de=tente\.
240:159,04[C  ]| Do not talk of her too much; it seems to$9$ bring her 
240:159,05[C  ]| back.  She will$1$ come back in$4$ plenty of time."
240:159,06['  ]| Madame*Merle, in$4$ fact, had come back before it
240:159,07['  ]| was too late ~~ too late, I mean, to$9$ recover whatever
240:159,08['  ]| advantage she might have lost.  But meantime, if, as
240:159,09['  ]| I have said, she was sensibly different, Isabel's feelings
240:159,10['  ]| were also not quite the same.  Her consciousness
240:159,11['  ]| of the situation was as acute as of old, but it was much 
240:159,12['  ]| less satisfying.  A dissatisfied mind, whatever else it
240:159,13['  ]| may miss, is rarely in$4$ want of reasons; they bloom as
240:159,14['  ]| thick as buttercups in$4$ June.  The fact of Madame*Merle's
240:159,15['  ]| having had a hand in$4$ Gilbert*Osmond's marriage
240:159,16['  ]| ceased to$9$ be one of her titles to$4$ consideration;
240:159,17['  ]| it might have been written, after all, that$3$ there was
240:159,18['  ]| not so$5#1$ much to$9$ thank her for$4$.  As time went on$5$ there
240:159,19['  ]| was less and less, and Isabel once said to$4$ herself that$3$
240:159,20@a   | perhaps without her these things would not have been.
240:159,21['  ]| That$6#2$ reflection indeed was instantly stifled; she knew
240:159,22['  ]| an immediate horror at having made it.  
240:159,22[A  ]| "Whatever
240:159,23[A  ]| happens to$4$ me let me not be unjust," 
240:159,23['  ]| she said;
240:159,24[A  ]| "let me bear my burdens myself and not shift them
240:159,25[A  ]| upon$4$ others!"  
240:159,25['  ]| This disposition was tested, eventually
240:159,26['  ]| by$4$ that$6#2$ ingenious apology for$4$ her present conduct
240:159,27['  ]| which$6#1$ Madame*Merle saw fit to$9$ make and of which$6#1$
240:159,28['  ]| I have given a sketch; for$3$ there was something irritating
240:159,29['  ]| ~~ there was almost an air of mockery ~~ in$4$ her
240:159,30['  ]| neat discriminations and clear convictions.  In$4$ Isabel's
240:159,31['  ]| mind to-day there was nothing clear; there was a confusion 
240:159,32['  ]| of regrets, a complication of fears.  She felt
240:160,01['  ]| helpless as she turned away from her friend, who$6#1$ had
240:160,02['  ]| just made the statements I have quoted: 
240:160,02@a   | Madame*Merle
240:160,03@a   | knew so$5#1$ little what she was thinking of!  She
240:160,04@a   | was herself moreover so$5#1$ unable to$9$ explain.  Jealous
240:160,05@a   | of her ~~ jealous of her with Gilbert?  The idea just
240:160,06@a   | then suggested no$2$ near reality.  She almost wished
240:160,07@a   | jealousy had been possible; it would have made in$4$ 
240:160,08@a   | a manner for$4$ refreshment.  
240:160,08@a   | Was not it in$4$ a manner
240:160,09@a   | one of the symptoms of happiness?  
240:160,09['  ]| Madame*Merle,
240:160,10['  ]| however, was wise, so$5#1$ wise that$3$ she might have been
240:160,11['  ]| pretending to$9$ know Isabel better than Isabel knew
240:160,12['  ]| herself.  This young woman had always been fertile
240:160,13['  ]| in$4$ resolutions ~~ many of them of an elevated character;
240:160,14['  ]| but at no$2$ period had they flourished (in$4$ the privacy
240:160,15['  ]| of her heart) more richly than to-day.  It is true
240:160,16['  ]| that$3$ they all had a family likeness; they might have
240:160,17['  ]| been summed up$5$ in$4$ the determination that$3$ if she was
240:160,18['  ]| to$9$ be unhappy it should not be by$4$ a fault of her own.
240:160,19['  ]| Her poor winged spirit had always had a great desire
240:160,20['  ]| to$9$ do its best, and it had not as yet been seriously discouraged.
240:160,21['  ]| It wished, therefore, to$9$ hold fast to$4$ justice
240:160,22['  ]| ~~ not to$9$ pay itself by$4$ petty revenges.  To$9$ associate
240:160,23['  ]| Madame*Merle with its disappointment would be a 
240:160,24['  ]| petty revenge ~~ especially as the pleasure to$9$ be derived
240:160,25['  ]| from that$6#2$ would be perfectly insincere.  It might
240:160,26['  ]| feed her sense of bitterness, but it would not loosen
240:160,27['  ]| her bonds.  
240:160,27@a   | It was impossible to$9$ pretend that$3$ she had
240:160,28@a   | not acted with her eyes open; if ever a girl was a free
240:160,29@a   | agent she had been.  A girl in$4$ love was doubtless not
240:160,30@a   | a free agent; but the sole source of her mistake had
240:160,31@a   | been within herself.  There had been no$2$ plot, no$2$ 
240:160,32@a   | snare; she had looked and considered and chosen.
240:161,01@a   | When a woman had made such a mistake, there was
240:161,02@a   | only one way to$9$ repair it ~~ just immensely (oh, with
240:161,03@a   | the highest grandeur!) to$9$ accept it.  One folly was
240:161,04@a   | enough, especially when it was to$9$ last for*ever; a 
240:161,05@a   | second one would not much set it off.  
240:161,05['  ]| In$4$ this vow
240:161,06['  ]| of reticence there was a certain nobleness which$6#1$ kept
240:161,07['  ]| Isabel going; but Madame*Merle had been right, for$4$ 
240:161,08['  ]| all that$6#2$, in$4$ taking her precautions.
240:161,09['  ]| One day about a month after Ralph*Touchett's 
240:161,10['  ]| arrival in$4$ Rome Isabel came back from a walk with
240:161,11['  ]| Pansy.  It was not only a part of her general determination
240:161,12['  ]| to$9$ be just that$3$ she was at present very thankful
240:161,13['  ]| for$4$ Pansy ~~ it was also a part of her tenderness for$4$
240:161,14['  ]| things that$6#1$ were pure and weak.  
240:161,14@a   | Pansy was dear to$4$ 
240:161,15@a   | her, and there was nothing else in$4$ her life that$6#1$ had the
240:161,16@a   | rightness of the young creature's attachment or the
240:161,17@a   | sweetness of her own clearness about it.  It was like$4$
240:161,18@a   | a soft presence ~~ like$4$ a small hand in$4$ her own; 
240:161,18['  ]| on$4$
240:161,19['  ]| Pansy's part it was more than an affection ~~ it was
240:161,20['  ]| a kind of ardent coercive faith.  On$4$ her own side her
240:161,21['  ]| sense of the girl's dependence was more than a pleasure;
240:161,22['  ]| it operated as a definite reason when motives
240:161,23['  ]| threatened to$9$ fail her.  She had said to$4$ herself that$3$
240:161,24@a   | we must take our duty where we find it, and that$3$ we
240:161,25@a   | must look for$4$ it as much as possible.  
240:161,25['  ]| Pansy's sympathy
240:161,26['  ]| was a direct admonition; it seemed to$9$ say that$3$ 
240:161,27['  ]| here was an opportunity, not eminent perhaps, but
240:161,28['  ]| unmistakeable.  Yet an opportunity for$4$ what Isabel
240:161,29['  ]| could hardly have said; in$4$ general, 
240:161,29@a   | to$9$ be more for$4$ the
240:161,30@a   | child than the child was able to$9$ be for$4$ herself.  
240:161,30['  ]| Isabel
240:161,31['  ]| could have smiled, in$4$ these days, to$9$ remember that$3$ her
240:161,32['  ]| little companion had once been ambiguous, for$3$ she
240:162,01['  ]| now perceived that$3$ Pansy's ambiguities were simply
240:162,02['  ]| her own grossness of vision.  She had been unable to$9$ 
240:162,03['  ]| believe any*one could care so$5#1$ much ~~ so$5#1$ extraordinarily
240:162,04['  ]| much ~~ to$9$ please.  But since then she had seen
240:162,05['  ]| this delicate faculty in$4$ operation, and now she knew
240:162,06['  ]| what to$9$ think of it.  
240:162,06@a   | It was the whole creature ~~ it was
240:162,07@a   | a sort of genius.  Pansy had no$2$ pride to$9$ interfere with 
240:162,08@a   | it, and though she was constantly extending her conquests 
240:162,09@a   | she took no$2$ credit for$4$ them.  
240:162,09['  ]| The two were 
240:162,10['  ]| constantly together; Mrs%*Osmond was rarely seen
240:162,11['  ]| without her stepdaughter.  Isabel liked her company;
240:162,12['  ]| it had the effect of one's carrying a nosegay composed
240:162,13['  ]| all of the same flower.  And then not to$9$ neglect Pansy,
240:162,14['  ]| not under any provocation to$9$ neglect her ~~ this she
240:162,15['  ]| had made an article of religion.  The young girl had
240:162,16['  ]| every appearance of being happier in$4$ Isabel's society
240:162,17['  ]| than in$4$ that$6#2$ of any*one save her father, whom she
240:162,18['  ]| admired with an intensity justified by$4$ the fact that$3$,
240:162,19['  ]| as paternity was an exquisite pleasure to$4$ Gilbert*Osmond,
240:162,20['  ]| he had always been luxuriously mild.  Isabel
240:162,21['  ]| knew how Pansy liked to$9$ be with her and how she
240:162,22['  ]| studied the means of pleasing her.  She had decided
240:162,23['  ]| that$3$ the best way of pleasing her was negative, and
240:162,24['  ]| consisted in$4$ not giving her trouble ~~ a conviction
240:162,25['  ]| which$6#1$ certainly could have had no$2$ reference to$4$ trouble
240:162,26['  ]| already existing.  She was therefore ingeniously passive
240:162,27['  ]| and almost imaginatively docile; she was careful
240:162,28['  ]| even to$9$ moderate the eagerness with which$6#1$ she assented
240:162,29['  ]| to$4$ Isabel's propositions and which$6#1$ might have 
240:162,30['  ]| implied that$3$ she could have thought otherwise.  She
240:162,31['  ]| never interrupted, never asked social questions, and
240:162,32['  ]| though she delighted in$4$ approbation, to$4$ the point of 
240:163,01['  ]| turning pale when it came to$4$ her, never held out her
240:163,02['  ]| hand for$4$ it.  She only looked toward it wistfully ~~ an
240:163,03['  ]| attitude which$6#1$, as she grew older, made her eyes the 
240:163,04['  ]| prettiest in$4$ the world.  When during the second winter
240:163,05['  ]| at Palazzo*Roccanera she began to$9$ go to$4$ parties, to$4$
240:163,06['  ]| dances, she always, at a reasonable hour, lest Mrs%*Osmond
240:163,07['  ]| should be tired, was the first to$9$ propose 
240:163,08['  ]| departure.  Isabel appreciated the sacrifice of the late
240:163,09['  ]| dances, for$3$ she knew her little companion had a passionate
240:163,10['  ]| pleasure in$4$ this exercise, taking her steps to$4$ 
240:163,11['  ]| the music like$4$ a conscientious fairy.  Society, moreover,
240:163,12['  ]| had no$2$ drawbacks for$4$ her; she liked even the
240:163,13['  ]| tiresome parts ~~ the heat of ball-rooms, the dulness
240:163,14['  ]| of dinners, the crush at the door, the awkward waiting
240:163,15['  ]| for$4$ the carriage.  During the day, in$4$ this vehicle,
240:163,16['  ]| beside her stepmother, she sat in$4$ a small fixed,
240:163,17['  ]| appreciative posture, bending forward and faintly
240:163,18['  ]| smiling, as if she had been taken to$9$ drive for$4$ the first
240:163,19['  ]| time.
240:163,20['  ]| On$4$ the day I speak of they had been driven out of 
240:163,21['  ]| one of the gates of the city and at the end of half an
240:163,22['  ]| hour had left the carriage to$9$ await them by$4$ the roadside
240:163,23['  ]| while they walked away over the short grass of
240:163,24['  ]| the Campagna, which$6#1$ even in$4$ the winter months is
240:163,25['  ]| sprinkled with delicate flowers.  This was almost
240:163,26['  ]| a daily habit with Isabel, who$6#1$ was fond of a walk and
240:163,27['  ]| had a swift length of step, though not so$5#1$ swift a one
240:163,28['  ]| as on$4$ her first coming to$4$ Europe.  It was not the form
240:163,29['  ]| of exercise that$6#1$ Pansy loved best, but she liked it,
240:163,30['  ]| because she liked everything; and she moved with a
240:163,31['  ]| shorter undulation beside her father's wife, who$6#1$ afterwards,
240:163,32['  ]| on$4$ their return to$4$ Rome, paid a tribute to$4$ her
240:164,01['  ]| preferences by$4$ making the circuit of the Pincian or the 
240:164,02['  ]| Villa*Borghese.  She had gathered a handful of flowers
240:164,03['  ]| in$4$ a sunny hollow, far from the walls of Rome, and on$4$
240:164,04['  ]| reaching Palazzo*Roccanera she went straight to$4$ her
240:164,05['  ]| room, to$9$ put them into water.  Isabel passed into the
240:164,06['  ]| drawing-room, the one she herself usually occupied,
240:164,07['  ]| the second in$4$ order from the large ante-chamber
240:164,08['  ]| which$6#1$ was entered from the staircase and in$4$ which$6#1$
240:164,09['  ]| even Gilbert*Osmond's rich devices had not been
240:164,10['  ]| able to$9$ correct a look of rather grand nudity.  Just
240:164,11['  ]| beyond the threshold of the drawing-room she stopped 
240:164,12['  ]| short, the reason for$4$ her doing so$5#2$ being that$3$ she had
240:164,13['  ]| received an impression.  The impression had, in$4$ strictness,
240:164,14['  ]| nothing unprecedented; but she felt it as something
240:164,15['  ]| new, and the soundlessness of her step gave her
240:164,16['  ]| time to$9$ take in$4$ the scene before she interrupted it.
240:164,17['  ]| Madame*Merle was there in$4$ her bonnet, and Gilbert*Osmond
240:164,18['  ]| was talking to$4$ her; for$4$ a minute they were
240:164,19['  ]| unaware she had come in$5$.  Isabel had often seen that$6#2$
240:164,20['  ]| before, certainly; but what she had not seen, or at
240:164,21['  ]| least had not noticed, was that$3$ their colloquy had
240:164,22['  ]| for$4$ the moment converted itself into a sort of familiar
240:164,23['  ]| silence, from which$6#1$ she instantly perceived that$3$ 
240:164,24['  ]| her entrance would startle them.  Madame*Merle
240:164,25['  ]| was standing on$4$ the rug, a little way from the fire;
240:164,26['  ]| Osmond was in$4$ a deep chair, leaning back and looking
240:164,27['  ]| at her.  Her head was erect, as usual, but her
240:164,28['  ]| eyes were bent on$4$ his.  What struck Isabel first was
240:164,29['  ]| that$3$ he was sitting while Madame*Merle stood; there
240:164,30['  ]| was an anomaly in$4$ this that$6#1$ arrested her.  Then she
240:164,31['  ]| perceived that$3$ they had arrived at a desultory pause
240:164,32['  ]| in$4$ their exchange of ideas and were musing, face to$4$
240:165,01['  ]| face, with the freedom of old friends who$6#1$ sometimes
240:165,02['  ]| exchange ideas without uttering them.  There was
240:165,03['  ]| nothing to$9$ shock in$4$ this; they were old friends in$4$
240:165,04['  ]| fact.  But the thing made an image, lasting only a
240:165,05['  ]| moment, like$4$ a sudden flicker of light.  Their relative
240:165,06['  ]| positions, their absorbed mutual gaze, struck her as
240:165,07['  ]| something detected.  But it was all over by$4$ the time 
240:165,08['  ]| she had fairly seen it.  Madame*Merle had seen her
240:165,09['  ]| and had welcomed her without moving; her husband,
240:165,10['  ]| on$4$ the other hand, had instantly jumped up$5$.  He 
240:165,11['  ]| presently murmured something about wanting a walk
240:165,12['  ]| and, after having asked their visitor to$9$ excuse him,
240:165,13['  ]| left the room.
240:165,14[H  ]| "I came to$9$ see you, thinking you would have come
240:165,15[H  ]| in$5$; and as you had not I waited for$4$ you," 
240:165,15['  ]| Madame*Merle
240:165,16['  ]| said.
240:165,17[A  ]| "Did not he ask you to$9$ sit down?" 
240:165,17['  ]| Isabel asked
240:165,18['  ]| with a smile.
240:165,19['  ]| Madame*Merle looked about her.  
240:165,19[H  ]| "Ah, it is very
240:165,20[H  ]| true; I was going away."
240:165,21[A  ]| "You must stay now."
240:165,22[H  ]| "Certainly.  I came for$4$ a reason; I have something
240:165,23[H  ]| on$4$ my mind."
240:165,24[A  ]| "I have told you that$6#2$ before," 
240:165,24['  ]| Isabel said ~~ 
240:165,24[A  ]| "that$3$
240:165,25[A  ]| it takes something extraordinary to$9$ bring you to$4$ this
240:165,26[A  ]| house."
240:165,27[H  ]| "And you know what I have told \you\; that$3$ whether
240:165,28[H  ]| I come or whether I stay away, I have always the same
240:165,29[H  ]| motive ~~ the affection I bear you."
240:165,30[A  ]| "Yes, you have told me that$6#2$."
240:165,31[H  ]| "You look just now as if you did not believe it,"
240:165,32['  ]| said Madame*Merle.
240:166,01[A  ]| "Ah," 
240:166,01['  ]| Isabel answered, 
240:166,01[A  ]| "the profundity of your
240:166,02[A  ]| motives, that$6#2$ is the last thing I doubt!"
240:166,03[H  ]| "You doubt sooner of the sincerity of my words."
240:166,04['  ]| Isabel shook her head gravely.  
240:166,04[A  ]| "I know you have
240:166,05[A  ]| always been kind to$4$ me."
240:166,06[H  ]| "As often as you would let me.  You do not always
240:166,07[H  ]| take it; then one has to$9$ let you alone.  It is not to$9$ do 
240:166,08[H  ]| you a kindness, however, that$3$ I have come to-day; it is
240:166,09[H  ]| quite another affair.  I have come to$9$ get rid of a trouble
240:166,10[H  ]| of my own ~~ to$9$ make it over to$4$ you.  I have been
240:166,11[H  ]| talking to$4$ your husband about it."
240:166,12[A  ]| "I am surprised at that$6#2$; he does not like$1$ troubles."
240:166,13[H  ]| "Especially other people's; I know very well.  But 
240:166,14[H  ]| neither do you, I suppose.  At any rate, whether you 
240:166,15[H  ]| do or not, you must help me. It is about poor Mr%*Rosier."
240:166,16[H  ]| 
240:166,17[A  ]| "Ah," 
240:166,17['  ]| said Isabel reflectively, 
240:166,17[A  ]| "it is his trouble then,
240:166,18[A  ]| not yours."
240:166,19[H  ]| "He has succeeded in$4$ saddling me with it.  He comes 
240:166,20[H  ]| to$9$ see me ten times a week, to$9$ talk about Pansy."
240:166,21[A  ]| "Yes, he wants to$9$ marry her.  I know all about it."
240:166,22['  ]| Madame*Merle hesitated.  
240:166,22[H  ]| "I gathered from your
240:166,23[H  ]| husband that$3$ perhaps you did not."
240:166,24[A  ]| "How should he know what I know?  He has never
240:166,25[A  ]| spoken to$4$ me of the matter."
240:166,26[H  ]| "It is probably because he does not know how to$9$
240:166,27[H  ]| speak of it."
240:166,28[A  ]| "It is nevertheless the sort of question in$4$ which$6#1$
240:166,29[A  ]| he is rarely at fault."
240:166,30[H  ]| "Yes, because as a general thing he knows perfectly
240:166,31[H  ]| well what to$9$ think.  To-day he does not."
240:166,32[A  ]| "Have not you been telling him?" 
240:166,32['  ]| Isabel asked.
240:167,01['  ]| Madame*Merle gave a bright, voluntary smile.
240:167,02[H  ]| "Do you know you are a little dry?"
240:167,03[A  ]| "Yes; I can not help it.  Mr%*Rosier has also talked
240:167,04[A  ]| to$4$ me."
240:167,05[H  ]| "In$4$ that$6#2$ there is some reason.  You are so$5#1$ near the 
240:167,06[H  ]| child."
240:167,07[A  ]| "Ah," 
240:167,07['  ]| said Isabel, 
240:167,07[A  ]| "for$4$ all the comfort I have given
240:167,08[A  ]| him!  If you think me dry, I wonder what \he\
240:167,09[A  ]| thinks."
240:167,10[H  ]| "I believe he thinks you can do more than you
240:167,11[H  ]| have done."
240:167,12[A  ]| "I can do nothing."
240:167,13[H  ]| "You can do more at least than I.  I do not know
240:167,14[H  ]| what mysterious connection he may have discovered
240:167,15[H  ]| between me and Pansy; but he came to$4$ me from 
240:167,16[H  ]| the first, as if I held his fortune in$4$ my hand.  Now
240:167,17[H  ]| he keeps coming back, to$9$ spur me up$5$, to$9$ know what
240:167,18[H  ]| hope there is, to$9$ pour out his feelings."
240:167,19[A  ]| "He is very much in$4$ love," 
240:167,19['  ]| said Isabel.
240:167,20[H  ]| "Very much ~~ for$4$ him."
240:167,21[A  ]| "Very much for$4$ Pansy, you might say as well."
240:167,22['  ]| Madame*Merle dropped her eyes a moment.
240:167,23[H  ]| "Do not you think she is attractive?"
240:167,24[A  ]| "The dearest little person possible ~~ but very 
240:167,25[A  ]| limited."
240:167,26[H  ]| "She ought to$9$ be all the easier for$4$ Mr%*Rosier to$9$ 
240:167,27[H  ]| love.  Mr%*Rosier is not unlimited."
240:167,28[A  ]| "No$7$," 
240:167,28['  ]| said Isabel, 
240:167,28[A  ]| "he has about the extent of
240:167,29[A  ]| one's pocket-handkerchief ~~ the small ones with 
240:167,30[A  ]| lace borders."  
240:167,30['  ]| Her humour had lately turned a good
240:167,31['  ]| deal to$4$ sarcasm, but in$4$ a moment she was ashamed
240:167,32['  ]| of exercising it on$4$ so$5#1$ innocent an object as Pansy's
240:168,01['  ]| suitor.  
240:168,01[A  ]| "He is very kind, very honest," 
240:168,01['  ]| she presently
240:168,02['  ]| added; 
240:168,02[A  ]| "and he is not such a fool as he seems."
240:168,03[H  ]| "He assures me that$3$ she delights in$4$ him," 
240:168,03['  ]| said 
240:168,04['  ]| Madame*Merle.
240:168,05[A  ]| "I do not know; I have not asked her."
240:168,06[H  ]| "You have never sounded her a little?"
240:168,07[A  ]| "It is not my place; it is her father's."
240:168,08[H  ]| "Ah, you are too literal!" 
240:168,08['  ]| said Madame*Merle.
240:168,09[A  ]| "I must judge for$4$ myself."
240:168,10['  ]| Madame*Merle gave her smile again.  
240:168,10[H  ]| "It is not
240:168,11[H  ]| easy to$9$ help you."
240:168,12[A  ]| "To$9$ help me?" 
240:168,12['  ]| said Isabel very seriously.  
240:168,12[A  ]| "What
240:168,13[A  ]| do you mean?"
240:168,14[H  ]| "It is easy to$9$ displease you.  Do not you see how
240:168,15[H  ]| wise I am to$9$ be careful?  I notify you, at any rate,
240:168,16[H  ]| as I notified Osmond, that$3$ I wash my hands of the 
240:168,17[H  ]| love-affairs of Miss*Pansy and Mr%*Edward*Rosier.
240:168,18[H  ]| \9Je 9n'y 9peux 9rien, 9moi\!  I can not talk to$4$ Pansy about 
240:168,19[H  ]| him.  Especially," 
240:168,19['  ]| added Madame*Merle, 
240:168,19[H  ]| "as I do not
240:168,20[H  ]| think him a paragon of husbands."
240:168,21['  ]| Isabel reflected a little; after which$6#1$, with a smile,
240:168,22[A  ]| "You do not wash your hands then!" 
240:168,22['  ]| she said.  After
240:168,23['  ]| which$6#1$ again she added in$4$ another tone:
240:168,23[A  ]| "You can not
240:168,24[A  ]| ~~ you are too much interested."
240:168,25['  ]| Madame*Merle slowly rose; she had given Isabel
240:168,26['  ]| a look as rapid as the intimation that$6#1$ had gleamed
240:168,27['  ]| before our heroine a few moments before.  Only this
240:168,28['  ]| time the latter saw nothing.  
240:168,28[H  ]| "Ask him the next time,
240:168,29[H  ]| and you will$1$ see."
240:168,30[A  ]| "I can not ask him; he has ceased to$9$ come to$4$ the house.
240:168,31[A  ]| Gilbert has let him know that$3$ he is not welcome."
240:168,32[H  ]| "Ah yes," 
240:168,32['  ]| said Madame*Merle, 
240:168,32[H  ]| "I forgot that$6#2$
240:169,01[H  ]| ~~ though it is the burden of his lamentation.  He
240:169,02[H  ]| says Osmond has insulted him.  All the same," 
240:169,02['  ]| she
240:169,03['  ]| went on$5$, 
240:169,03[H  ]| "Osmond does not dislike him so$5#1$ much 
240:169,04[H  ]| as he thinks."  
240:169,04['  ]| She had got up$5$ as if to$9$ close the 
240:169,05['  ]| conversation, but she lingered, looking about her, and
240:169,06['  ]| had evidently more to$9$ say.  Isabel perceived this
240:169,07['  ]| and even saw the point she had in$4$ view; but Isabel
240:169,08['  ]| also had her own reasons for$4$ not opening the way.
240:169,09[A  ]| "That$6#2$ must have pleased him, if you have told
240:169,10[A  ]| him," 
240:169,10['  ]| she answered, smiling.
240:169,11[H  ]| "Certainly I have told him; as far as that$6#2$ goes
240:169,12[H  ]| I have encouraged him.  I have preached patience, have
240:169,13[H  ]| said that$3$ his case is not desperate if he will$1$ only hold
240:169,14[H  ]| his tongue and be quiet.  Unfortunately he has taken
240:169,15[H  ]| it into his head to$9$ be jealous."
240:169,16[A  ]| "Jealous?"
240:169,17[H  ]| "Jealous of Lord*Warburton, who$6#1$ he says, is 
240:169,18[H  ]| always here."
240:169,19['  ]| Isabel, who$6#1$ was tired, had remained sitting; but
240:169,20['  ]| at this she also rose. 
240:169,20[A  ]| "Ah!" 
240:169,20['  ]| she exclaimed simply,
240:169,21['  ]| moving slowly to$4$ the fireplace.  Madame*Merle observed
240:169,22['  ]| her as she passed and while she stood a moment
240:169,23['  ]| before the mantel-glass and pushed into its
240:169,24['  ]| place a wandering tress of hair.
240:169,25[H  ]| "Poor Mr%*Rosier keeps saying there is nothing
240:169,26[H  ]| impossible in$4$ Lord*Warburton's falling in$4$ love with 
240:169,27[H  ]| Pansy," 
240:169,27['  ]| Madame*Merle went on$5$.
240:169,28['  ]| Isabel was silent a little; she turned away from
240:169,29['  ]| the glass.  
240:169,29[A  ]| "It is true ~~ there is nothing impossible,"
240:169,30['  ]| she returned at last, gravely and more gently.
240:169,31[H  ]| "So$5#2$ I have had to$9$ admit to$4$ Mr%*Rosier.  So$5#2$, too, 
240:169,32[H  ]| your husband thinks."
240:170,01[A  ]| "That$6#2$ I do not know."
240:170,02[H  ]| "Ask him and you will$1$ see."
240:170,03[A  ]| "I shall not ask him," 
240:170,03['  ]| said Isabel.
240:170,04[H  ]| "Pardon me; I forgot you had pointed that$6#2$ out.
240:170,05[H  ]| Of course," 
240:170,05['  ]| Madame*Merle added, 
240:170,05[H  ]| "you have had infinitely 
240:170,06[H  ]| more observation of Lord*Warburton's behaviour
240:170,07[H  ]| than I."
240:170,08[A  ]| "I see no$2$ reason why I should not tell you that$3$ he
240:170,09[A  ]| likes my stepdaughter very much."
240:170,10['  ]| Madame*Merle gave one of her quick looks again.
240:170,11[H  ]| "Likes her, you mean ~~ as Mr%*Rosier means?"
240:170,12[A  ]| "I do not know how Mr%*Rosier means; but Lord*Warburton
240:170,13[A  ]| has let me know that$3$ he is charmed with 
240:170,14[A  ]| Pansy."
240:170,15[H  ]| "And you have never told Osmond?"  
240:170,15['  ]| This observation
240:170,16['  ]| was immediate, precipitate; it almost burst 
240:170,17['  ]| from Madame*Merle's lips.
240:170,18['  ]| Isabel's eyes rested on$4$ her.  
240:170,18[A  ]| "I suppose he will$1$
240:170,19[A  ]| know in$4$ time; Lord*Warburton has a tongue and
240:170,20[A  ]| knows how to$9$ express himself."
240:170,21['  ]| Madame*Merle instantly became conscious that$3$ 
240:170,22['  ]| she had spoken more quickly than usual, and the 
240:170,23['  ]| reflection brought the colour to$4$ her cheek.  She gave
240:170,24['  ]| the treacherous impulse time to$9$ subside and then said
240:170,25['  ]| as if she had been thinking it over a little:
240:170,25[H  ]| "That$6#2$
240:170,26[H  ]| would be better than marrying poor Mr%*Rosier."
240:170,27[A  ]| "Much better, I think."
240:170,28[H  ]| "It would be very delightful; it would be a great
240:170,29[H  ]| marriage.  It is really very kind of him."
240:170,30[A  ]| "Very kind of him?"
240:170,31[H  ]| "To$9$ drop his eyes on$4$ a simple little girl."
240:170,32[A  ]| "I do not see that$6#2$."
240:171,01[H  ]| "It is very good of you.  But after all, Pansy*Osmond ~"
240:171,02[H  ]| 
240:171,03[A  ]| "After all, Pansy*Osmond is the most attractive
240:171,04[A  ]| person he has ever known!" 
240:171,04['  ]| Isabel exclaimed.
240:171,05['  ]| Madame*Merle stared, and indeed she was justly
240:171,06['  ]| bewildered.  
240:171,06[H  ]| "Ah, a moment ago I thought you seemed
240:171,07[H  ]| rather to$9$ disparage her."
240:171,08[A  ]| "I said she was limited.  And so$5#2$ she is.  And so is
240:171,09[A  ]| Lord*Warburton."
240:171,10[H  ]| "So$5#2$ are we all, if you come to$4$ that$6#2$.  If it is no$2$
240:171,11[H  ]| more than Pansy deserves, all the better.  But if she
240:171,12[H  ]| fixes her affections on$4$ Mr%*Rosier I will$1$ not admit that$3$ 
240:171,13[H  ]| she deserves it.  That$6#2$ will$1$ be too perverse."
240:171,14[A  ]| "Mr%*Rosier is a nuisance!" 
240:171,14['  ]| Isabel cried abruptly.
240:171,15['  ]| 
240:171,16[H  ]| "I quite agree with you, and I am delighted to$9$ 
240:171,17[H  ]| know that$3$ I am not expected to$9$ feed his flame.  For$4$
240:171,18[H  ]| the future, when he calls on$4$ me, my door shall be
240:171,19[H  ]| closed to$4$ him."  
240:171,19['  ]| And gathering her mantle together
240:171,20['  ]| Madame*Merle prepared to$9$ depart.  She was checked,
240:171,21['  ]| however, on$4$ her progress to$4$ the door, by$4$ an inconsequent
240:171,22['  ]| request from Isabel.
240:171,23[A  ]| "All the same, you know, be kind to$4$ him."
240:171,24['  ]| She lifted her shoulders and eyebrows and stood
240:171,25['  ]| looking at her friend.  
240:171,25[H  ]| "I do not understand your contradictions!
240:171,26[H  ]| Decidedly I shall not be kind to$4$ him, for$3$
240:171,27[H  ]| it will$1$ be false kindness.  I want to$9$ see her married
240:171,28[H  ]| to$4$ Lord*Warburton."
240:171,29[A  ]| "You had better wait till he asks her."
240:171,30[H  ]| "If what you say is true, he will$1$ ask her.  Especially,"
240:171,31['  ]| said Madame*Merle in$4$ a moment, 
240:171,31[H  ]| "if you 
240:171,32[H  ]| make him."
240:172,01[A  ]| "If I make him?"
240:172,02[H  ]| "It is quite in$4$ your power.  You have great influence
240:172,03[H  ]| with him."
240:172,04['  ]| Isabel frowned a little.  
240:172,04[A  ]| "Where did you learn
240:172,05[A  ]| that$6#2$?"
240:172,06[H  ]| "Mrs%*Touchett told me.  Not you ~~ never!" 
240:172,06['  ]| said
240:172,07['  ]| Madame*Merle, smiling.
240:172,08[A  ]| "I certainly never told you anything of the sort."
240:172,09[H  ]| "You \might\ have done so$5#2$ ~~ so$5#1$ far as opportunity
240:172,10[H  ]| went ~~ when we were by$4$ way of being confidential
240:172,11[H  ]| with each other.  But you really told me very little;
240:172,12[H  ]| I have often thought so$5#2$ since."
240:172,13['  ]| Isabel had thought so$5#2$ too, and sometimes with a 
240:172,14['  ]| certain satisfaction.  But she did not admit it now ~~
240:172,15['  ]| perhaps because she wished not to$9$ appear to$9$ exult
240:172,16['  ]| in$4$ it.  
240:172,16[A  ]| "You seem to$9$ have had an excellent informant
240:172,17[A  ]| in$4$ my aunt," 
240:172,17['  ]| she simply returned.
240:172,18[H  ]| "She let me know you had declined an offer of
240:172,19[H  ]| marriage from Lord*Warburton, because she was
240:172,20[H  ]| greatly vexed and was full of the subject.  Of course
240:172,21[H  ]| I think you have done better in$4$ doing as you did.  But
240:172,22[H  ]| if you would not marry Lord*Warburton yourself,
240:172,23[H  ]| make him the reparation of helping him to$9$ marry
240:172,24[H  ]| some*one else."
240:172,25['  ]| Isabel listened to$4$ this with a face that$6#1$ persisted in$4$ 
240:172,26['  ]| not reflecting the bright expressiveness of Madame*Merle's.
240:172,27['  ]| But in$4$ a moment she said, reasonably and 
240:172,28['  ]| gently enough:
240:172,28[A  ]| "I should be very glad indeed if, as
240:172,29[A  ]| regards Pansy, it could be arranged."  
240:172,29['  ]| Upon$4$ which$6#1$ 
240:172,30['  ]| her companion, who$6#1$ seemed to$9$ regard this as a speech
240:172,31['  ]| of good omen, embraced her more tenderly than
240:172,32['  ]| might have been expected and triumphantly withdrew.
241:173,01['  ]| Osmond touched on$4$ this matter that$6#2$ evening for$4$
241:173,02['  ]| the first time; coming very late into the drawing-room,
241:173,03['  ]| where she was sitting alone.  They had spent
241:173,04['  ]| the evening at home, and Pansy had gone to$4$ bed;
241:173,05['  ]| he himself had been sitting since dinner in$4$ a small
241:173,06['  ]| apartment in$4$ which$6#1$ he had arranged his books and
241:173,07['  ]| which$6#1$ he called his study.  At ten o'clock Lord*Warburton
241:173,08['  ]| had come in$5$, as he always did when he knew 
241:173,09['  ]| from Isabel that$3$ she was to$9$ be at home; he was 
241:173,10['  ]| going somewhere else and sat for$4$ half an hour.
241:173,11['  ]| Isabel, after asking him for$4$ news of Ralph, said very
241:173,12['  ]| little to$4$ him on$4$ purpose; she wished him to$9$ talk with 
241:173,13['  ]| her stepdaughter.  She pretended to$9$ read; she even
241:173,14['  ]| went after a little to$4$ the piano; she asked herself 
241:173,14@a   | if
241:173,15@a   | she might not leave the room.  
241:173,15['  ]| She had come little
241:173,16['  ]| by$4$ little to$9$ think well of the idea of Pansy's becoming
241:173,17['  ]| the wife of the master of beautiful Lockleigh,
241:173,18['  ]| though at first it had not presented itself in$4$ a manner
241:173,19['  ]| to$9$ excite her enthusiasm.  Madame*Merle, that$6#2$ 
241:173,20['  ]| afternoon, had applied the match to$4$ an accumulation
241:173,21['  ]| of inflammable material.  When Isabel was unhappy
241:173,22['  ]| she always looked about her ~~ partly from
241:173,23['  ]| impulse and partly by$4$ theory ~~ for$4$ some form of 
241:173,24['  ]| positive exertion.  She could never rid herself of the 
241:173,25['  ]| sense that$3$ unhappiness was a state of disease ~~ of
241:173,26['  ]| suffering as opposed to$4$ doing.  
241:173,26@a   | To$9$ "do" ~~ it hardly
241:174,01@a   | mattered what ~~ would therefore be an escape, perhaps
241:174,02@a   | in$4$ some degree a remedy.  
241:174,02['  ]| Besides, she wished
241:174,03['  ]| to$9$ convince herself that$3$ she had done everything
241:174,04['  ]| possible to$9$ content her husband; she was determined
241:174,05['  ]| not to$9$ be haunted by$4$ visions of his wife's
241:174,06['  ]| limpness under appeal.  It would please him greatly
241:174,07['  ]| to$9$ see Pansy married to$4$ an English nobleman, and 
241:174,08['  ]| justly please him, since this nobleman was so$5#1$ sound
241:174,09['  ]| a character.  It seemed to$4$ Isabel that$3$ if she could
241:174,10['  ]| make it her duty to$9$ bring about such an event she 
241:174,11['  ]| should play the part of a good wife.  She wanted to$9$
241:174,12['  ]| be that$6#2$; she wanted to$9$ be able to$9$ believe sincerely,
241:174,13['  ]| and with proof of it, that$3$ she had been that$6#2$.  Then
241:174,14['  ]| such an undertaking had other recommendations.
241:174,15['  ]| It would occupy her, and she desired occupation.
241:174,16['  ]| It would even amuse her, and if she could really amuse
241:174,17['  ]| herself she perhaps might be saved.  Lastly, it would
241:174,18['  ]| be a service to$4$ Lord*Warburton, who$6#1$ evidently
241:174,19['  ]| pleased himself greatly with the charming girl.  
241:174,19@a   | It
241:174,20@a   | was a little "weird" he should ~~ being what he was;
241:174,21@a   | but there was no$2$ accounting for$4$ such impressions.
241:174,22@a   | Pansy might captivate any*one ~~ any*one at least
241:174,23@a   | but Lord*Warburton.  
241:174,23['  ]| Isabel would have thought
241:174,24['  ]| her 
241:174,24@a   | too small, too slight, perhaps even too artificial
241:174,25@a   | for$4$ that$6#2$.  There was always a little of the doll
241:174,26@a   | about her, and that$6#2$ was not what he had been looking 
241:174,27@a   | for$4$.  Still, who$6#2$ could say what men ever were 
241:174,28@a   | looking for$4$?  They looked for$4$ what they found; they 
241:174,29@a   | knew what pleased them only when they saw it.  No$2$ 
241:174,30@a   | theory was valid in$4$ such matters, and nothing was
241:174,31@a   | more unaccountable or more natural than anything
241:174,32@a   | else.  If he had cared for$4$ \her\ it might seem odd he
241:175,01@a   | should care for$4$ Pansy, who$6#1$ was so$5#1$ different; but he
241:175,02@a   | had not cared for$4$ her so$5#1$ much as he had supposed.
241:175,03@a   | Or if he had, he had completely got over it, and it
241:175,04@a   | was natural that$3$, as that$6#2$ affair had failed, he should
241:175,05@a   | think something of quite another sort might succeed.
241:175,06['  ]| Enthusiasm, as I say, had not come at first to$4$ Isabel,
241:175,07['  ]| but it came to-day and made her feel almost happy.
241:175,08['  ]| It was astonishing what happiness she could still
241:175,09['  ]| find in$4$ the idea of procuring a pleasure for$4$ her husband.
241:175,10@a   | It was a pity, however that$3$ Edward*Rosier 
241:175,11@a   | had crossed their path!
241:175,12['  ]| At this reflection the light that$6#1$ had suddenly
241:175,13['  ]| gleamed upon$4$ that$6#2$ path lost something of its brightness.
241:175,14['  ]| Isabel was unfortunately as sure that$3$ Pansy 
241:175,15['  ]| thought Mr%*Rosier the nicest of all the young men
241:175,16['  ]| ~~ as sure as if she had held an interview with her
241:175,17['  ]| on$4$ the subject.  
241:175,17@a   | It was very tiresome she should be
241:175,18@a   | so$5#1$ sure, when she had carefully abstained from 
241:175,19@a   | informing herself; almost as tiresome as that$3$ poor
241:175,20@a   | Mr%*Rosier should have taken it into his own head.
241:175,21@a   | He was certainly very inferior to$4$ Lord*Warburton.
241:175,22@a   | It was not the difference in$4$ fortune so$5#1$ much as the 
241:175,23@a   | difference in$4$ the men; the young American was really
241:175,24@a   | so$5#1$ light a weight.  He was much more of the type of 
241:175,25@a   | the useless fine gentleman than the English nobleman.
241:175,26@a   | It was true that$3$ there was no$2$ particular reason 
241:175,27@a   | why Pansy should marry a statesman; still, if
241:175,28@a   | a statesman admired her, that$6#2$ was his affair, and
241:175,29@a   | she would make a perfect little pearl of a peeress.
241:175,30['  ]| It may seem to$4$ the reader that$3$ Mrs%*Osmond had
241:175,31['  ]| grown of a sudden strangely cynical, for$3$ she ended
241:175,32['  ]| by$4$ saying to$4$ herself that$3$ 
241:175,32@a   | this difficulty could probably
241:176,01@a   | be arranged.  An impediment that$6#1$ was embodied
241:176,02@a   | in$4$ poor Rosier could not anyhow present itself
241:176,03@a   | as a dangerous one; there were always means
241:176,04@a   | of levelling secondary obstacles.  
241:176,04['  ]| Isabel was perfectly
241:176,05['  ]| aware that$3$ 
241:176,05@a   | she had not taken the measure of
241:176,06@a   | Pansy's tenacity, which$6#1$ might prove to$9$ be inconveniently
241:176,07@a   | great; 
241:176,07['  ]| but she inclined to$9$ see her as 
241:176,07@a   | rather
241:176,08@a   | letting go, under suggestion, than as clutching under
241:176,09@a   | deprecation ~~ since she had certainly the faculty
241:176,10@a   | of assent developed in$4$ a very much higher degree
241:176,11@a   | than that$6#2$ of protest.  She would cling, yes, she would
241:176,12@a   | cling; but it really mattered to$4$ her very little what 
241:176,13@a   | she clung to$4$.  Lord*Warburton would do as well as
241:176,14@a   | Mr%*Rosier ~~ especially as she seemed quite to$9$ like$1$
241:176,15@a   | him; 
241:176,15['  ]| she had expressed this sentiment to$4$ Isabel without
241:176,16['  ]| a single reservation; she had said 
241:176,16@k   | she thought 
241:176,17@k   | his conversation most interesting ~~ he had told her
241:176,18@k   | all about India.  
241:176,18@a   | His manner to$4$ Pansy had been of
241:176,19@a   | the rightest and easiest ~~ 
241:176,19['  ]| Isabel noticed that$3$ for$4$
241:176,20['  ]| herself, as she also observed that$3$ 
241:176,20@a   | he talked to$4$ her 
241:176,21@a   | not in$4$ the least in$4$ a patronising way, reminding himself 
241:176,22@a   | of her youth and simplicity, but quite as if she
241:176,23@a   | understood his subjects with that$6#2$ sufficiency with
241:176,24@a   | which$6#1$ she followed those of the fashionable operas.
241:176,25@a   | This went far enough for$4$ attention to$4$ the music and
241:176,26@a   | the barytone.  He was careful only to$9$ be kind ~~ he
241:176,27@a   | was as kind as he had been to$4$ another fluttered young
241:176,28@a   | chit at Gardencourt.  A girl might well be touched
241:176,29@a   | by$4$ that$6#2$; 
241:176,29['  ]| she remembered 
241:176,29@a   | how she herself had been
241:176,30@a   | touched, 
241:176,30['  ]| and said to$4$ herself that$3$ 
241:176,30@a  ]| if she had been as
241:176,31@a   | simple as Pansy the impression would have been
241:176,32@a   | deeper still.  She had not been simple when she refused
241:177,01@a   | him; that$6#2$ operation had been as complicated
241:177,02@a   | as, later, her acceptance of Osmond had been.  
241:177,02['  ]| Pansy,
241:177,03['  ]| however, in$4$ spite of \her\ simplicity, really did understand
241:177,04['  ]| and was glad that$3$ Lord*Warburton should
241:177,05['  ]| talk to$4$ her, not about her partners and bouquets,
241:177,06['  ]| but about the state of Italy, the condition of the 
241:177,07['  ]| peasantry, the famous grist-tax, the \8pellagra\, his
241:177,08['  ]| impressions of Roman society.  She looked at him,
241:177,09['  ]| as she drew her needle through her tapestry, with
241:177,10['  ]| sweet submissive eyes, and when she lowered them
241:177,11['  ]| she gave little quiet oblique glances at his person,
241:177,12['  ]| his hands, his feet, his clothes, as if she were considering
241:177,13['  ]| him.  Even his person, Isabel might have
241:177,14['  ]| reminded her, was better than Mr%*Rosier's.  But
241:177,15['  ]| Isabel contented herself at such moments with wondering
241:177,16['  ]| where this gentleman was; he came no$2$ more
241:177,17['  ]| at all to$4$ Palazzo*Roccanera.  It was surprising, as
241:177,18['  ]| I say, the hold it had taken of her ~~ the idea of
241:177,19['  ]| assisting her husband to$9$ be pleased.
241:177,20['  ]| It was surprising for$4$ a variety of reasons which$6#1$
241:177,21['  ]| I shall presently touch upon$4$.  On$4$ the evening I speak
241:177,22['  ]| of, while Lord*Warburton sat there, she had been 
241:177,23['  ]| on$4$ the point of taking the great step of going out of
241:177,24['  ]| the room and leaving her companions alone.  I say
241:177,25['  ]| the great step, because it was in$4$ this light that$3$ Gilbert*Osmond
241:177,26['  ]| would have regarded it, and Isabel was
241:177,27['  ]| trying as much as possible to$9$ take her husband's
241:177,28['  ]| view.  She succeeded after a fashion, but she fell
241:177,29['  ]| short of the point I mention.  After all she could not
241:177,30['  ]| rise to$4$ it; something held her and made this impossible.
241:177,31['  ]| It was not exactly that$3$ it would be base or
241:177,32['  ]| insidious; for$3$ women as a general thing practise
241:178,01['  ]| such manoeuvres with a perfectly good conscience,
241:178,02['  ]| and Isabel was instinctively much more true than
241:178,03['  ]| false to$4$ the common genius of her sex.  There was
241:178,04['  ]| a vague doubt that$6#1$ interposed ~~ a sense that$3$ she
241:178,05['  ]| was not quite sure.  So$3$ she remained in$4$ the drawing-room
241:178,06['  ]| and after a while Lord*Warburton went off
241:178,07['  ]| to$4$ his party, of which$6#1$ he promised to$9$ give Pansy a
241:178,08['  ]| full account on$4$ the morrow.  After he had gone
241:178,09['  ]| she wondered 
241:178,09@a   | if she had prevented something which$6#1$
241:178,10@a   | would have happened if she had absented herself
241:178,11@a   | for$4$ a quarter of an hour; 
241:178,11['  ]| and then she pronounced
241:178,12['  ]| ~~ always mentally ~~ that$3$ 
241:178,12@a   | when their distinguished
241:178,13@a   | visitor should wish her to$9$ go away he would easily 
241:178,14@a   | find means to$9$ let her know it.  
241:178,14['  ]| Pansy said nothing
241:178,15['  ]| whatever about him after he had gone, and Isabel
241:178,16['  ]| studiously said nothing, as she had taken a vow 
241:178,17['  ]| of reserve until after he should have declared himself.
241:178,18['  ]| He was a little longer in$4$ coming to$4$ this than might 
241:178,19['  ]| seem to$9$ accord with the description he had given
241:178,20['  ]| Isabel of his feelings.  Pansy went to$4$ bed, and Isabel
241:178,21['  ]| had to$9$ admit that$3$ 
241:178,21@a   | she could not now guess what
241:178,22@a   | her stepdaughter was thinking of.  
241:178,22['  ]| Her transparent
241:178,23['  ]| little companion was for$4$ the moment not to$9$ be seen
241:178,24['  ]| through.
241:178,25['  ]| She remained alone, looking at the fire, until, at
241:178,26['  ]| the end of half an hour, her husband came in$5$.  He
241:178,27['  ]| moved about a while in$4$ silence and then sat down;
241:178,28['  ]| he looked at the fire like$4$ herself.  But she now had
241:178,29['  ]| transferred her eyes from the flickering flame in$4$
241:178,30['  ]| the chimney to$4$ Osmond's face, and she watched
241:178,31['  ]| him while he kept his silence.  Covert observation
241:178,32['  ]| had become a habit with her; an instinct, of which$6#1$
241:179,01['  ]| it is not an exaggeration to$9$ say that$3$ it was allied to$4$ 
241:179,02['  ]| that$6#2$ of self-defence, had made it habitual.  She wished
241:179,03['  ]| as much as possible to$9$ know his thoughts, to$9$ know
241:179,04['  ]| what he would say, beforehand, so$3$ that$3$ she might
241:179,05['  ]| prepare her answer.  Preparing answers had not been
241:179,06['  ]| her strong point of old; she had rarely in$4$ this respect
241:179,07['  ]| got further than thinking afterwards of clever
241:179,08['  ]| things she might have said.  But she had learned
241:179,09['  ]| caution ~~ learned it in$4$ a measure from her husband's
241:179,10['  ]| very countenance.  It was the same face she
241:179,11['  ]| had looked into with eyes equally earnest perhaps,
241:179,12['  ]| but less penetrating, on$4$ the terrace of a Florentine
241:179,13['  ]| villa; except that$3$ Osmond had grown slightly stouter
241:179,14['  ]| since his marriage.  He still, however, might strike
241:179,15['  ]| one as very distinguished.
241:179,16[C  ]| "Has Lord*Warburton been here?" 
241:179,16['  ]| he presently
241:179,17['  ]| asked.
241:179,18[A  ]| "Yes, he stayed half an hour."
241:179,19[C  ]| "Did he see Pansy?"
241:179,20[A  ]| "Yes; he sat on$4$ the sofa beside her."
241:179,21[C  ]| "Did he talk with her much?"
241:179,22[A  ]| "He talked almost only to$4$ her."
241:179,23[C  ]| "It seems to$4$ me he is attentive.  Is not that$6#2$ what 
241:179,24[C  ]| you call it?"
241:179,25[A  ]| "I do not call it anything," 
241:179,25['  ]| said Isabel; 
241:179,25[A  ]| "I have
241:179,26[A  ]| waited for$4$ you to$9$ give it a name."
241:179,27[C  ]| "That$6#2$ is a consideration you do not always show,"
241:179,28['  ]| Osmond answered after a moment.
241:179,29[A  ]| "I have determined, this time, to$9$ try and act as
241:179,30[A  ]| you would like$1$.  I have so$5#1$ often failed of that$6#2$."
241:179,31['  ]| Osmond turned his head slowly, looking at her.
241:179,32[C  ]| "Are you trying to$9$ quarrel with me?"
241:180,01[A  ]| "No$7$, I am trying to$9$ live at peace."
241:180,02[C  ]| "Nothing is more easy; you know I do not quarrel
241:180,03[C  ]| myself."
241:180,04[A  ]| "What do you call it when you try to$9$ make me
241:180,05[A  ]| angry?"  
241:180,05['  ]| Isabel asked.
241:180,06[C  ]| "I do not try; if I have done so$5#2$ it has been the most
241:180,07[C  ]| natural thing in$4$ the world.  Moreover I am not in$4$
241:180,08[C  ]| the least trying now.
241:180,09['  ]| Isabel smiled.  
241:180,09[A  ]| "It does not matter.  I have determined
241:180,10[A  ]| never to$9$ be angry again."
241:180,11[C  ]| "That$6#2$ is an excellent resolve. Your temper is not
241:180,12[C  ]| good."
241:180,13[A  ]| "No$7$ ~~ it is not good."  
241:180,13['  ]| She pushed away the
241:180,14['  ]| book she had been reading and took up$5$ the band of 
241:180,15['  ]| tapestry Pansy had left on$4$ the table.
241:180,16[C  ]| "That$6#2$ is partly why I have not spoken to$4$ you about
241:180,17[C  ]| this business of my daughter's," 
241:180,17['  ]| Osmond said, designating
241:180,18['  ]| Pansy in$4$ the manner that$6#1$ was most frequent 
241:180,19['  ]| with him.  
241:180,19[C  ]| "I was afraid I should encounter
241:180,20[C  ]| opposition ~~ that$3$ you too would have views on$4$
241:180,21[C  ]| the subject.  I have sent little Rosier about his business."
241:180,22[C  ]| 
241:180,23[A  ]| "You were afraid I would plead for$4$ Mr%*Rosier?
241:180,24[A  ]| Have not you noticed that$3$ I have never spoken to$4$ you
241:180,25[A  ]| of him?"
241:180,26[C  ]| "I have never given you a chance.  We have so$5#1$ little
241:180,27[C  ]| conversation in$4$ these days.  I know he was an old
241:180,28[C  ]| friend of yours."
241:180,29[A  ]| "Yes; he is an old friend of mine."  
241:180,29['  ]| Isabel cared
241:180,30['  ]| little more him than for$4$ the tapestry that$6#1$ she held
241:180,31['  ]| in$4$ her hand; but it was true that$3$ he was an old friend
241:180,32['  ]| and that$3$ with her husband she felt a desire not to$9$ 
241:181,01['  ]| extenuate such ties.  He had a way of expressing contempt
241:181,02['  ]| for$4$ them which$6#1$ fortified her loyalty to$4$ them,
241:181,03['  ]| even when, as in$4$ present case, they were in$4$ themselves
241:181,04['  ]| insignificant.  She sometimes felt a sort of passion
241:181,05['  ]| of tenderness for$4$ memories which$6#1$ had no$2$ other
241:181,06['  ]| merit than that$3$ they belonged to$4$ her unmarried life.
241:181,07[A  ]| "But as regards Pansy," 
241:181,07['  ]| she added in$4$ a moment,
241:181,08[A  ]| "I have given him no$2$ encouragement."
241:181,09[C  ]| "That$6#2$ is fortunate," 
241:181,09['  ]| Osmond observed.
241:181,10[A  ]| "Fortunate for$4$ me, I suppose you mean.  For$4$ him
241:181,11[A  ]| it matters little."
241:181,12[C  ]| "There is no$2$ use talking of him," 
241:181,12['  ]| Osmond said.
241:181,13[C  ]| "As I tell you, I have turned him out."
241:181,14[A  ]| "Yes; but a lover outside is always a lover.  He is
241:181,15[A  ]| sometimes even more of one.  Mr%*Rosier still has
241:181,16[A  ]| hope."
241:181,17[C  ]| "He is welcome to$4$ the comfort of it!  My daughter
241:181,18[C  ]| has only to$9$ sit perfectly quiet to$9$ become Lady*Warburton."
241:181,19[C  ]| 
241:181,20[A  ]| "Should you like$1$ that$6#2$?"  
241:181,20['  ]| Isabel asked with a simplicity
241:181,21['  ]| which$6#1$ was not so$5#1$ affected as it may appear.
241:181,22['  ]| She was resolved to$9$ assume nothing, for$3$ Osmond
241:181,23['  ]| had a way of unexpectedly turning her assumptions
241:181,24['  ]| against her.  The intensity with which$6#1$ he would like$1$
241:181,25['  ]| his daughter to$9$ become Lady*Warburton had been 
241:181,26['  ]| the very basis of her own recent reflections.  But
241:181,27['  ]| that$6#2$ was for$4$ herself; 
241:181,27@a   | she would recognise nothing
241:181,28@a   | until Osmond should have put it into words; she
241:181,29@a   | would not take for$4$ granted with him that$3$ he thought
241:181,30@a   | Lord*Warburton a prize worth an amount of effort
241:181,31@a   | that$6#1$ was unusual among the Osmonds.  
241:181,31['  ]| It was Gilbert's
241:181,32['  ]| constant intimation that$3$ for$4$ him nothing in$4$ 
241:182,01['  ]| life was a prize; that$3$ he treated as from equal to$4$ 
241:182,02['  ]| equal with the most distinguished people in$4$ the world,
241:182,03['  ]| and that$3$ his daughter had only to$9$ look about her
241:182,04['  ]| to$9$ pick out a prince.  It cost him therefore a lapse
241:182,05['  ]| from consistency to$9$ say explicitly that$3$ he yearned
241:182,06['  ]| for$4$ Lord*Warburton and that$3$ if this nobleman should
241:182,07['  ]| escape his equivalent might not be found; with which$6#1$
241:182,08['  ]| moreover it was another of his customary implications
241:182,09['  ]| that$3$ he was never inconsistent.  He would have 
241:182,10['  ]| liked his wife to$9$ glide over the point.  But strangely
241:182,11['  ]| enough, now that$3$ she was face to$4$ face with him and
241:182,12['  ]| although an hour before she had almost invented a
241:182,13['  ]| scheme for$4$ pleasing him, Isabel was not accommodating,
241:182,14['  ]| would not glide.  And yet she knew exactly 
241:182,15['  ]| the effect on$4$ his mind of her question: 
241:182,15@a   | it would operate
241:182,16@a   | as an humiliation.  Never mind; he was terribly
241:182,17@a   | capable of humiliating \her\ ~~ all the more so$3$ that$3$ he
241:182,18@a   | was also capable of waiting for$4$ great opportunities
241:182,19@a   | and of showing sometimes an almost unaccountable 
241:182,20@a   | indifference to$4$ small ones.  
241:182,20['  ]| Isabel perhaps took
241:182,21['  ]| a small opportunity because she would not have 
241:182,22['  ]| availed herself of a great one.
241:182,23['  ]| Osmond at present acquitted himself very honourably.
241:182,24[C  ]| "I should like$1$ it extremely; it would be
241:182,25[C  ]| a great marriage.  And then Lord*Warburton has
241:182,26[C  ]| another advantage: he is an old friend of yours.  It 
241:182,27[C  ]| would be pleasant for$4$ him to$9$ come into the family.
241:182,28[C  ]| It is very odd Pansy's admirers should all be your 
241:182,29[C  ]| old friends."
241:182,30[A  ]| "It is natural that$3$ they should come to$9$ see me.
241:182,31[A  ]| In$4$ coming to$9$ see me they see Pansy.  Seeing her it is
241:182,32[A  ]| natural they should fall in$4$ love with her."
241:183,01[C  ]| "So$5#2$ I think.  But you are not bound to$9$ do so$5#2$."
241:183,02[A  ]| "If she should marry Lord*Warburton I should
241:183,03[A  ]| be very glad," 
241:183,03['  ]| Isabel went on$5$ frankly.  
241:183,03[A  ]| "He is an
241:183,04[A  ]| excellent man.  You say, however, that$3$ she has only
241:183,05[A  ]| to$9$ sit perfectly still.  Perhaps she will$1$ not sit perfectly
241:183,06[A  ]| still.  If she loses Mr%*Rosier she may jump
241:183,07[A  ]| up$5$!"
241:183,08['  ]| Osmond appeared to$9$ give no$2$ heed to$4$ this; he sat
241:183,09['  ]| gazing at the fire.  
241:183,09[C  ]| "Pansy would like$1$ to$9$ be a great
241:183,10[C  ]| lady," 
241:183,10['  ]| he remarked in$4$ a moment with a certain tenderness
241:183,11['  ]| of tone.  
241:183,11[C  ]| "She wishes above all to$9$ please,"
241:183,12['  ]| he added.
241:183,13[A  ]| "To$9$ please Mr%*Rosier, perhaps."
241:183,14[C  ]| "No$7$, to$9$ please me."
241:183,15[A  ]| "Me too a little, I think," 
241:183,15['  ]| said Isabel.
241:183,16[C  ]| "Yes, she has a great opinion of you.  But she will$1$
241:183,17[C  ]| do what I like$1$."
241:183,18[A  ]| "If you are sure of that$6#2$, it is very well," 
241:183,18['  ]| she
241:183,19['  ]| went on$5$.
241:183,20[C  ]| "Meantime," 
241:183,21['  ]| said Osmond, 
241:183,21[C  ]| "I should like$1$ our
241:183,21[C  ]| distinguished visitor to$9$ speak."
241:183,22[A  ]| "He has spoken ~~ to$4$ me.  He has told me it would
241:183,23[A  ]| be a great pleasure to$4$ him to$9$ believe she could care
241:183,24[A  ]| for$4$ him."
241:183,25['  ]| Osmond turned his head quickly, but at first he
241:183,26['  ]| said nothing.  Then, 
241:183,26[C  ]| "Why did not you tell me that$6#2$?"
241:183,27['  ]| he asked sharply.
241:183,28[A  ]| "There was no$2$ opportunity.  You know how we
241:183,29[A  ]| live.  I have taken the first chance that$6#1$ has offered."
241:183,30[C  ]| "Did you speak to$4$ him of Rosier?"
241:183,31[A  ]| "Oh yes, a little."
241:183,32[C  ]| "That$6#2$ was hardly necessary."
241:184,01[A  ]| "I thought it best he should know, so$3$ that$3$, so$3$ 
241:184,02[A  ]| that$3$ ~~ " 
241:184,02['  ]| And Isabel paused.
241:184,03[C  ]| "So$3$ that$3$ what?"
241:184,04[A  ]| "So$3$ that$3$ he might act accordingly."
241:184,05[C  ]| "So$3$ that$3$ he might back out, do you mean?"
241:184,06[A  ]| "No$7$, so$3$ that$3$ he might advance while there is yet
241:184,07[A  ]| time."
241:184,08[C  ]| "That$6#2$ is not the effect it seems to$9$ have had."
241:184,09[A  ]| "You should have patience," 
241:184,09['  ]| said Isabel.  
241:184,09[A  ]| "You
241:184,10[A  ]| know Englishmen are shy."
241:184,11[C  ]| "This one is not.  He was not when he made love
241:184,12[C  ]| to$4$ \you\."
241:184,13['  ]| She had been afraid Osmond would speak of that$6#2$;
241:184,14@a   | it was disagreeable to$4$ her.  
241:184,14[A  ]| "I beg your pardon; he
241:184,15[A  ]| was extremely so$5#2$," 
241:184,15['  ]| she returned.
241:184,16['  ]| He answered nothing for$4$ some time; he took up$5$
241:184,17['  ]| a book and fingered the pages while she sat silent
241:184,18['  ]| and occupied herself with Pansy's tapestry.  
241:184,18[C  ]| "You
241:184,19[C  ]| must have a great deal of influence with him," 
241:184,19['  ]| Osmond
241:184,20['  ]| went on$5$ at last.  
241:184,20[C  ]| "The moment you really wish
241:184,21[C  ]| it you can bring him to$4$ the point."
241:184,22['  ]| This was more offensive still; but she felt the
241:184,23['  ]| great naturalness of his saying it, and it was after all
241:184,24['  ]| extremely like$4$ what she had said to$4$ herself.  
241:184,24[A  ]| "Why
241:184,25[A  ]| should I have influence?" 
241:184,25['  ]| she asked.  
241:184,25[A  ]| "What have 
241:184,26[A  ]| I ever done to$9$ put him under an obligation to$4$ 
241:184,27[A  ]| me?"
241:184,28[C  ]| "You refused to$9$ marry him," 
241:184,28['  ]| said Osmond with 
241:184,29['  ]| his eyes on$4$ his book.
241:184,30[A  ]| "I must not presume too much on$4$ that$6#2$," 
241:184,30['  ]| she
241:184,31['  ]| replied.
241:184,32['  ]| He threw down the book presently and got up$5$,
241:185,01['  ]| standing before the fire with his hands behind him.
241:185,02[C  ]| "Well, I hold that$3$ it lies in$4$ your hands.  I shall leave
241:185,03[C  ]| it there.  With a little good-will you may manage it.
241:185,04[C  ]| Think that$6#2$ over and remember how much I count
241:185,05[C  ]| on$4$ you."  
241:185,05['  ]| He waited a little, to$9$ give her time to$9$ answer;
241:185,06['  ]| but she answered nothing, and he presently
241:185,07['  ]| strolled out of the room.
242:186,01['  ]| She had answered nothing because his words had
242:186,02['  ]| put the situation before her and she was absorbed
242:186,03['  ]| in$4$ looking at it.  There was something in$4$ them that$6#1$
242:186,04['  ]| suddenly made vibrations deep, so$3$ that$3$ she had been
242:186,05['  ]| afraid to$9$ trust herself to$9$ speak.  After he had gone
242:186,06['  ]| she leaned back in$4$ her chair and closed her eyes;
242:186,07['  ]| and for$4$ a long time, far into the night and still further,
242:186,08['  ]| she sat in$4$ the still drawing-room, given up$5$ to$4$ her
242:186,09['  ]| meditation.  A servant came in$5$ to$9$ attend to$4$ the fire,
242:186,10['  ]| and she bade him 
242:186,10@a   | bring fresh candles and then go to$4$
242:186,11@a   | bed.  
242:186,11['  ]| Osmond had told her to$9$ think of what he had
242:186,12['  ]| said; and she did so$5#2$ indeed, and of many other things.
242:186,13['  ]| The suggestion from another that$3$ she had a definite
242:186,14['  ]| influence on$4$ Lord*Warburton ~~ this had given her
242:186,15['  ]| the start that$6#1$ accompanies unexpected recognition.
242:186,16@a   | Was it true that$3$ there was something still between
242:186,17@a   | them that$6#1$ might be a handle to$9$ make him declare
242:186,18@a   | himself to$4$ Pansy ~~ a susceptibility, on$4$ his part, to$4$ approval,
242:186,19@a   | a desire to$9$ do what would please her?  
242:186,19['  ]| Isabel
242:186,20['  ]| had hitherto not asked herself the question, because
242:186,21['  ]| she had not been forced; but now that$3$ it was directly
242:186,22['  ]| presented to$4$ her she saw the answer, and the 
242:186,23['  ]| answer frightened her.  
242:186,23@a   | Yes, there was something
242:186,24@a   | ~~ something on$4$ Lord*Warburton's part.  When he
242:186,25@a   | had first come to$4$ Rome she believed the link that$6#1$
242:186,26@a   | united them to$9$ be completely snapped; but little by$4$
242:186,27@a   | little she had been reminded that$3$ it had yet a palpable
242:187,01@a   | existence.  It was as thin as a hair, but there
242:187,02@a   | were moments when she seemed to$9$ hear it vibrate.  
242:187,03@a   | For$4$ herself nothing was changed; what she once
242:187,04@a   | thought of him she always thought; it was needless
242:187,05@a   | this feeling should change; it seemed to$4$ her in$4$ fact a 
242:187,06@a   | better feeling than ever.  But he? had he still the idea
242:187,07@a   | that$3$ she might be more to$4$ him than other women?
242:187,08@a   | Had he the wish to$9$ profit by$4$ the memory of the few 
242:187,09@a   | moments of intimacy through which$6#1$ they had once
242:187,10@a   | passed?  
242:187,10['  ]| Isabel knew she had read some of the 
242:187,11['  ]| signs of such a disposition.  
242:187,11@a   | But what were his hopes,
242:187,12@a   | his pretensions, and in$4$ what strange way were they
242:187,13@a   | mingled with his evidently very sincere appreciation
242:187,14@a   | of poor Pansy?  Was he in$4$ love with Gilbert*Osmond's
242:187,15@a   | wife, and if so$5#2$ what comfort did he expect
242:187,16@a   | to$9$ derive from it?  If he was in$4$ love with Pansy
242:187,17@a   | he was not in$4$ love with her stepmother, and if he
242:187,18@a   | was in$4$ love with her stepmother he was not in$4$ love
242:187,19@a   | with Pansy.  Was she to$9$ cultivate the advantage she
242:187,20@a   | possessed in$4$ order to$9$ make him commit himself to$4$ 
242:187,21@a   | Pansy, knowing he would do so$5#2$ for$4$ her sake and not
242:187,22@a   | for$4$ the small creature's own ~~ was this the service
242:187,23@a   | her husband had asked of her?  
242:187,23['  ]| This at any rate was
242:187,24['  ]| the duty with which$6#1$ she found herself confronted ~~
242:187,25['  ]| from the moment she admitted to$4$ herself that$3$ her
242:187,26['  ]| old friend had still an uneradicated predilection for$4$
242:187,27['  ]| her society.  It was not an agreeable task; it was in$4$
242:187,28['  ]| fact a repulsive one.  She asked herself with dismay
242:187,29@a   | whether Lord*Warburton were pretending to$9$ be in$4$ 
242:187,30@a   | love with Pansy in$4$ order to$9$ cultivate another satisfaction
242:187,31@a   | and what might be called other chances.  
242:187,31['  ]| Of
242:187,32['  ]| this refinement of duplicity she presently acquitted
242:188,01['  ]| him; she preferred to$9$ believe him in$4$ perfect good
242:188,02['  ]| faith.  
242:188,02@a   | But if his admiration for$4$ Pansy were a delusion
242:188,03@a   | this was scarcely better than its being an affectation.
242:188,04['  ]| Isabel wandered among these ugly possibilities
242:188,05['  ]| until she had completely lost her way; some of
242:188,06['  ]| them, as she suddenly encountered them, seemed
242:188,07['  ]| ugly enough.  Then she broke out of the labyrinth,
242:188,08['  ]| rubbing her eyes, and declared that$3$ 
242:188,08@a   | her imagination
242:188,09@a   | surely did her little honour and that$3$ her husband's
242:188,10@a   | did him even less.  Lord*Warburton was as disinterested
242:188,11@a   | as he need be, and she was no$2$ more to$4$ him
242:188,12@a   | than she need wish.  She would rest upon$4$ this till
242:188,13@a   | the contrary should be proved; proved more effectually
242:188,14@a   | than by$4$ a cynical intimation of Osmond's.
242:188,15['  ]| Such a resolution, however, brought her this evening
242:188,16['  ]| but little peace, for$3$ her soul was haunted with
242:188,17['  ]| terrors which$6#1$ crowded to$4$ the foreground of thought
242:188,18['  ]| as quickly as a place was made for$4$ them.  What had
242:188,19['  ]| suddenly set them into livelier motion she hardly
242:188,20['  ]| knew, unless it were the strange impression she had
242:188,21['  ]| received in$4$ the afternoon of her husband's being in$4$
242:188,22['  ]| more direct communication with Madame*Merle
242:188,23['  ]| than she suspected.  That$6#2$ impression came back to$4$
242:188,24['  ]| her from time to$4$ time, and now she wondered it had
242:188,25['  ]| never come before.  Besides this, her short interview  
242:188,26['  ]| with Osmond half an hour ago was a striking example
242:188,27['  ]| of his faculty for$4$ making everything wither
242:188,28['  ]| that$6#1$ he touched, spoiling everything for$4$ her that$6#1$ he
242:188,29['  ]| looked at.  
242:188,29@a   | It was very well to$9$ undertake to$9$ give him
242:188,30@a   | a proof of loyalty; the real fact was that$3$ the knowledge
242:188,31@a   | of his expecting a thing raised a presumption
242:188,32@a   | against it.  It was as if he had had the evil eye; as if
242:189,01@a   | his presence were a blight and his favour a misfortune.
242:189,02@a   | Was the fault in$4$ himself, or only in$4$ the deep
242:189,03@a   | mistrust she had conceived for$4$ him?  This mistrust
242:189,04@a   | was now the clearest result of their short married
242:189,05@a   | life; a gulf had opened between them over which$6#1$
242:189,06@a   | they looked at each other with eyes that$6#1$ were on$4$
242:189,07@a   | either side a declaration of the deception suffered.
242:189,08@a   | It was a strange opposition, of the like$0$ of which$6#1$ she
242:189,09@a   | had never dreamed ~~ an opposition in$4$ which$6#1$ the 
242:189,10@a   | vital principle of the one was a thing of contempt to$4$
242:189,11@a   | the other.  It was not her fault ~~ she had practised
242:189,12@a   | no$2$ deception; she had only admired and believed.
242:189,13@a   | She had taken all the first steps in$4$ the purest confidence,
242:189,14@a   | and then she had suddenly found the infinite
242:189,15@a   | vista of a multiplied life to$9$ be a dark, narrow alley
242:189,16@a   | with a dead wall at the end.  Instead of leading
242:189,17@a   | to$4$ the high places of happiness, from which$6#1$ the 
242:189,18@a   | world would seem to$9$ lie below one, so$3$ that$3$ one could
242:189,19@a   | look down with a sense of exaltation and advantage,
242:189,20@a   | and judge and choose and pity, it led rather downward
242:189,21@a   | and earthward, into realms of restriction and depression
242:189,22@a   | where the sound of other lives, easier and freer, was
242:189,23@a   | heard as from above, and where it served to$9$ deepen
242:189,24@a   | the feeling of failure.  It was her deep distrust of her 
242:189,25@a   | husband ~~ this was what darkened the world.  
242:189,25['  ]| That$6#2$ 
242:189,26['  ]| is a sentiment easily indicated, but not so$5#1$ easily explained,
242:189,27['  ]| and so$5#1$ composite in$4$ its character that$3$ much
242:189,28['  ]| time and still more suffering had been needed to$9$
242:189,29['  ]| bring it to$4$ its actual perfection.  Suffering, with Isabel,
242:189,30['  ]| was an active condition; it was not a chill, a stupor,
242:189,31['  ]| a despair; it was a passion of thought, of speculation,
242:189,32['  ]| of response to$4$ every pressure.  She flattered herself
242:190,01['  ]| that$3$ 
242:190,01@a   | she had kept her failing faith to$4$ herself, however,
242:190,02@a   | ~~ that$3$ no*one suspected it but Osmond.  Oh, he knew
242:190,03@a   | it, and there were times when she thought he enjoyed
242:190,04@a   | it.  It had come gradually ~~ it was not till the first
242:190,05@a   | year of their life together, so$5#1$ admirably intimate at
242:190,06@a   | first, had closed that$3$ she had taken the alarm.  Then
242:190,07@a   | the shadows had begun to$9$ gather; it was as if Osmond
242:190,08@a   | deliberately, almost malignantly, had put the
242:190,09@a   | lights out one by$4$ one.  The dusk at first was vague
242:190,10@a   | and thin, and she could still see her way in$4$ it.  But
242:190,11@a   | it steadily deepened, and if now and again it had occasionally
242:190,12@a   | lifted there were certain corners of her prospect 
242:190,13@a   | that$6#1$ were impenetrably black.  These shadows
242:190,14@a   | were not an emanation from her own mind: 
242:190,14['  ]| she was
242:190,15['  ]| very sure of that$6#2$; 
242:190,15@a   | she had done her best to$9$ be just
242:190,16@a   | and temperate, to$9$ see only the truth.  They were a
242:190,17@a   | part, they were a kind of creation and consequence,
242:190,18@a   | of her husband's very presence.  They were not his
242:190,19@a   | misdeeds, his turpitudes; she accused him of nothing
242:190,20@a   | ~~ that$6#2$ is but of one thing, which$6#1$ was \not\ a crime.
242:190,21@a   | She knew of no$2$ wrong he had done; he was not violent,
242:190,22@a   | he was not cruel: she simply believed he hated
242:190,23@a   | her.  That$6#2$ was all she accused him of, and the miserable
242:190,24@a   | part of it was precisely that$3$ it was not a crime,
242:190,25@a   | for$3$ against a crime she might have found redress.
242:190,26@a   | He had discovered that$3$ she was so$5#1$ different, that$3$ she
242:190,27@a   | was not what he had believed she would prove to$9$ be.
242:190,28@a   | He had thought at first he could change her, and
242:190,29@a   | she had done her best to$9$ be what he would like$1$.  But
242:190,30@a   | she was, after all, herself ~~ she could not help that$6#2$;
242:190,31@a   | and now there was no$2$ use pretending, wearing a 
242:190,32@a   | mask or a dress, for$3$ he knew her and had made up$5$ 
242:191,01@a   | his mind.  She was not afraid of him; she had no$2$
242:191,02@a   | apprehension he would hurt her; for$3$ the ill-will he
242:191,03@a   | bore her was not of that$6#2$ sort.  He would if possible
242:191,04@a   | never give her a pretext, never put himself in$4$ the 
242:191,05@a   | wrong.  
242:191,05['  ]| Isabel, scanning the future with dry, fixed
242:191,06['  ]| eyes, saw that$3$ 
242:191,06@a   | he would have the better of her there.
242:191,07@a   | She would give him many pretexts, she would often
242:191,08@a   | put herself in$4$ the wrong.  There were times when
242:191,09@a   | she almost pitied him; for$3$ if she had not deceived
242:191,10@a   | him in$4$ intention she understood how completely
242:191,11@a   | she must have done so$5#2$ in$4$ fact.  She had effaced herself
242:191,12@a   | when he first knew her; she had made herself
242:191,13@a   | small, pretending there was less of her than there
242:191,14@a   | really was.  It was because she had been under the 
242:191,15@a   | extraordinary charm that$6#1$ he, on$4$ his side, had taken
242:191,16@a   | pains to$9$ put forth.  He was not changed; he had not
242:191,17@a   | disguised himself, during the year of his courtship,
242:191,18@a   | any more than she.  But she had seen only half his
242:191,19@a   | nature then, as one saw the disk of the moon when 
242:191,20@a   | it was partly masked by$4$ the shadow of the earth.
242:191,21@a   | She saw the full moon now ~~ she saw the whole
242:191,22@a   | man.  She had kept still, as it were, so$3$ that$3$ he should
242:191,23@a   | have a free field, and yet in$4$ spite of this she had mistaken
242:191,24@a   | a part for$4$ the whole.
242:191,25@a   | Ah, she had been immensely under the charm!  It
242:191,26@a   | had not passed away; it was there still: she still
242:191,27@a   | knew perfectly what it was that$6#1$ made Osmond delightful
242:191,28@a   | when he chose to$9$ be.  He had wished to$9$ be
242:191,29@a   | when he made love to$4$ her, and as she had wished
242:191,30@a   | to$9$ be charmed it was not wonderful he had succeeded.
242:191,31@a   | He had succeeded because he had been sincere; it
242:191,32@a   | never occurred to$4$ her now to$9$ deny him that$6#2$.  He
242:192,01@a   | admired her ~~ he had told her why: because she
242:192,02@a   | was the most imaginative woman he had known.
242:192,03@a   | It might very well have been true; for$3$ during those
242:192,04@a   | months she had imagined a world of things that$6#1$ had
242:192,05@a   | no$2$ substance.  She had had a more wondrous vision
242:192,06@a   | of him, fed through charmed senses and oh such a 
242:192,07@a   | stirred fancy! ~~ she had not read him right.  A certain
242:192,08@a   | combination of features had touched her, and
242:192,09@a   | in$4$ them she had seen the most striking of figures.
242:192,10@a   | That$3$ he was poor and lonely and yet that$3$ somehow
242:192,11@a   | he was noble ~~ that$6#2$ was what had interested her
242:192,12@a   | and seemed to$9$ give her her opportunity.  There had
242:192,13@a   | been an indefinable beauty about him ~~ in$4$ his situation,
242:192,14@a   | in$4$ his mind, in$4$ his face.  She had felt at the 
242:192,15@a   | same time that$3$ he was helpless and ineffectual, but
242:192,16@a   | the feeling had taken the form of a tenderness which$6#1$
242:192,17@a   | was the very flower of respect.  He was like$4$ a sceptical
242:192,18@a   | voyager strolling on$4$ the beach while he waited for$4$
242:192,19@a   | the tide, looking seaward yet not putting to$4$ sea.  It
242:192,20@a   | was in$4$ all this she had found her occasion.  She would
242:192,21@a   | launch his boat for$4$ him; she would be his providence;
242:192,22@a   | it would be a good thing to$9$ love him.  And she had
242:192,23@a   | loved him, she had so$5#1$ anxiously and yet so$5#1$ ardently
242:192,24@a   | given herself ~~ a good deal for$4$ what she found in$4$
242:192,25@a   | him, but a good deal also for$4$ what she brought him
242:192,26@a   | and what might enrich the gift.  
242:192,26['  ]| As she looked back
242:192,27['  ]| at the passion of those full weeks she perceived in$4$
242:192,28['  ]| it a kind of maternal strain ~~ the happiness of a 
242:192,29['  ]| woman who$6#1$ felt that$3$ she was a contributor, that$3$ she
242:192,30['  ]| came with charged hands.  
242:192,30@a   | But for$4$ her money, 
242:192,30['  ]| as she
242:192,31['  ]| saw to-day, 
242:192,31@a   | she would never have done it.  
242:192,31['  ]| And then
242:192,32['  ]| her mind wandered off to$4$ poor Mr%*Touchett, sleeping
242:193,01['  ]| under English turf, the beneficent author of
242:193,02['  ]| infinite woe!  For$3$ this was the fantastic fact.  At
242:193,03['  ]| bottom her money had been a burden, had been on$4$
242:193,04['  ]| her mind, which$6#1$ was filled with the desire to$9$ transfer
242:193,05['  ]| the weight of it to$4$ some other conscience, to$4$ some
242:193,06['  ]| more prepared receptacle.  
242:193,06@a   | What would lighten her
242:193,07@a   | own conscience more effectually than to$9$ make it over
242:193,08@a   | to$4$ the man with the best taste in$4$ the world?  Unless
242:193,09@a   | she should have given it to$4$ a hospital there would
242:193,10@a   | have been nothing better she could do with it; and
242:193,11@a   | there was no$2$ charitable institution in$4$ which$6#1$ she had
242:193,12@a   | been as much interested as in$4$ Gilbert*Osmond.  He
242:193,13@a   | would use her fortune in$4$ a way that$6#1$ would make her
242:193,14@a   | think better of it and rub off a certain grossness
242:193,15@a   | attaching to$4$ the good luck of an unexpected inheritance.
242:193,16@a   | There had been nothing very delicate in$4$ inheriting 
242:193,17@a   | seventy thousand pounds; the delicacy had
242:193,18@a   | been all in$4$ Mr%*Touchett's leaving them to$4$ her.  But
242:193,19@a   | to$9$ marry Gilbert*Osmond and bring him such a portion
242:193,20@a   | ~~ in$4$ that$6#2$ there would be delicacy for$4$ her as well.
242:193,21@a   | There would be less for$4$ him ~~ that$6#2$ was true; but
242:193,22@a   | that$6#2$ was his affair, and if he loved her he would not
242:193,23@a   | object to$4$ her being rich.  Had he not had the courage
242:193,24@a   | to$9$ say he was glad she was rich?
242:193,25['  ]| Isabel's cheek burned when she asked herself if
242:193,26@a   | she had really married on$4$ a factitious theory, in$4$ order
242:193,27@a   | to$9$ do something finely appreciable with her money.
242:193,28['  ]| But she was able to$9$ answer quickly enough that$3$ 
242:193,28@a   | this
242:193,29@a   | was only half the story.  It was because a certain
242:193,30@a   | ardour took possession of her ~~ a sense of the earnestness
242:193,31@a   | of his affection and a delight in$4$ his personal
242:193,32@a   | qualities.  He was better than any*one else.  
242:193,32['  ]| This
242:194,01['  ]| supreme conviction had filled her life for$4$ months,
242:194,02['  ]| and enough of it still remained to$9$ prove to$4$ her that$3$
242:194,03@a   | she could not have done otherwise.  The finest ~~ in$4$
242:194,04@a   | the sense of being the subtlest ~~ manly organism
242:194,05@a   | she had ever known had become her property, and
242:194,06@a   | the recognition of her having but to$9$ put out her hands
242:194,07@a   | and take it had been originally a sort of act of devotion.
242:194,08@a   | She had not been mistaken about the beauty
242:194,09@a   | of his mind; she knew that$6#2$ organ perfectly now.
242:194,10@a   | She had lived with it, she had lived \in$4$\ it almost ~~ it
242:194,11@a   | appeared to$9$ have become her habitation.  If she had
242:194,12@a   | been captured it had taken a firm hand to$9$ seize her;
242:194,13@a   | that$6#2$ reflection perhaps had some worth.  A mind
242:194,14@a   | more ingenious, more pliant, more cultivated, more
242:194,15@a   | trained to$4$ admirable exercises, she had not encountered;
242:194,16@a   | and it was this exquisite instrument she had
242:194,17@a   | now to$9$ reckon with.  
242:194,17['  ]| She lost herself in$4$ infinite dismay
242:194,18['  ]| when she thought of the magnitude of \his\ deception.
242:194,19@a   | It was a wonder, perhaps, in$4$ view of this,
242:194,20@a   | that$3$ he did not hate her more.  
242:194,20['  ]| She remembered
242:194,21['  ]| perfectly the first sign he had given of it ~~ it had
242:194,22['  ]| been like$4$ the bell that$6#1$ was to$9$ ring up$5$ the curtain
242:194,23['  ]| upon$4$ the real drama of their life.  
242:194,23@a   | He said to$4$ her one
242:194,24@a   | day that$3$ 
242:194,24@b   | she had too many ideas and that$3$ she must
242:194,25@b   | get rid of them.  
242:194,25['  ]| He had told her that$6#2$ already, before
242:194,26['  ]| their marriage; but then she had not noticed it: it
242:194,27['  ]| had come back to$4$ her only afterwards.  This time
242:194,28['  ]| she might well have noticed it, because he had really
242:194,29['  ]| meant it.  The words had been nothing superficially;
242:194,30['  ]| but when in$4$ the light of deepening experience she
242:194,31['  ]| had looked into them they had then appeared portentous.
242:194,32@a   | He had really meant it ~~ he would have 
242:195,01@a   | liked her to$9$ have nothing of her own but her pretty 
242:195,02@a   | appearance.  She had known she had too many ideas;
242:195,03@a   | she had more even than he had supposed, many more
242:195,04@a   | than she had expressed to$4$ him when he had asked
242:195,05@a   | her to$9$ marry him.  Yes, she \had\ been hypocritical;
242:195,06@a   | she had liked him so$5#1$ much.  She had too many
242:195,07@a   | ideas for$4$ herself; but that$6#2$ was just what one married
242:195,08@a   | for$4$, to$9$ share them with some*one else.  One could not
242:195,09@a   | pluck them up$5$ by$4$ the roots, though of course one might
242:195,10@a   | suppress them, be careful not to$9$ utter them.  It had
242:195,11@a   | not been this, however, his objecting to$4$ her opinions;
242:195,12@a   | this had been nothing.  She had no$2$ opinions ~~ none
242:195,13@a   | that$6#1$ she would not have been eager to$9$ sacrifice in$4$ the 
242:195,14@a   | satisfaction of feeling herself loved for$4$ it.  What he
242:195,15@a   | had meant had been the whole thing ~~ her character,
242:195,16@a   | the way she felt, the way she judged.  This was what
242:195,17@a   | she had kept in$4$ reserve; this was what he had not
242:195,18@a   | known until he had found himself ~~ with the door
242:195,19@a   | closed behind, as it were ~~ set down face to$4$ face
242:195,20@a   | with it.  She had a certain way of looking at life which$6#1$
242:195,21@a   | he took as a personal offence.  Heaven knew that$3$
242:195,22@a   | now at least it was a very humble, accommodating
242:195,23@a   | way!  The strange thing was that$3$ she should not have
242:195,24@a   | suspected from the first that$3$ his own had been so$5#1$ different.
242:195,25@a   | She had thought it so$5#1$ large, so$5#1$ enlightened,
242:195,26@a   | so$5#1$ perfectly that$6#2$ of an honest man and a gentleman.
242:195,27@a   | Had not he assured her that$3$ he had no$2$ superstitions,
242:195,28@a   | no$2$ dull limitations, no$2$ prejudices that$6#1$ had lost their
242:195,29@a   | freshness?  Had not he all the appearance of a man
242:195,30@a   | living in$4$ the open air of the world, indifferent to$4$
242:195,31@a   | small considerations, caring only for$4$ truth and knowledge
242:195,32@a   | and believing that$3$ two intelligent people ought
242:196,01@a   | to$9$ look for$4$ them together and, whether they found
242:196,02@a   | them or not, find at least some happiness in$4$ the 
242:196,03@a   | search?  He had told her he loved the conventional;
242:196,04@a   | but there was a sense in$4$ which$6#1$ this seemed a noble
242:196,05@a   | declaration.  In$4$ that$6#2$ sense, that$6#2$ of the love of harmony
242:196,06@a   | and order and decency and of all the stately
242:196,07@a   | offices of life, she went with him freely, and his
242:196,08@a   | warning had contained nothing ominous.  But when,
242:196,09@a   | as the months had elapsed, she had followed him
242:196,10@a   | further and he had led her into the mansion of his
242:196,11@a   | own habitation, then, \then\ she had seen where she
242:196,12@a   | really was.
242:196,13['  ]| She could live it over again, the incredulous terror
242:196,14['  ]| with which$6#1$ she had taken the measure of her dwelling.
242:196,15['  ]| Between those four walls she had lived ever since;
242:196,16['  ]| they were to$9$ surround her for$4$ the rest of her life.  
242:196,16@a   | It
242:196,17@a   | was the house of darkness, the house of dumbness,
242:196,18@a   | the house of suffocation.  Osmond's beautiful mind
242:196,19@a   | gave it neither light nor air; Osmond's beautiful
242:196,20@a   | mind indeed seemed to$9$ peep down from a small high
242:196,21@a   | window and mock at her.  Of course it had not been
242:196,22@a   | physical suffering; for$4$ physical suffering there might
242:196,23@a   | have been a remedy.  She could come and go; she
242:196,24@a   | had her liberty; her husband was perfectly polite.  He
242:196,25@a   | took himself so$5#1$ seriously; it was something appalling.
242:196,26@a   | Under all his culture, his cleverness, his amenity,
242:196,27@a   | under his good-nature, his facility, his knowledge
242:196,28@a   | of life, his egotism lay hidden like$4$ a serpent in$4$ a
242:196,29@a   | bank of flowers.  She had taken him seriously, but
242:196,30@a   | she had not taken him so$5#1$ seriously as that$6#2$.  How
242:196,31@a   | could she ~~ especially when she had known him
242:196,32@a   | better?  She was to$9$ think of him as he thought of himself
242:197,01@a   | ~~ as the first gentleman in$4$ Europe.  So$3$ it was
242:197,02@a   | that$3$ she had thought of him at first, and that$6#2$ indeed
242:197,03@a   | was the reason she had married him.  But when she
242:197,04@a   | began to$9$ see what it implied she drew back; there
242:197,05@a   | was more in$4$ the bond than she had meant to$9$ put her 
242:197,06@a   | name to$4$.  It implied a sovereign contempt for$4$ every*one
242:197,07@a   | but some three or four very exalted people whom
242:197,08@a   | he envied, and for$4$ everything in$4$ the world but half
242:197,09@a   | a dozen ideas of his own.  That$6#2$ was very well; she
242:197,10@a   | would have gone with him even there a long distance;
242:197,11@a   | for$3$ he pointed out to$4$ her so$5#1$ much of the baseness
242:197,12@a   | and shabbiness of life, opened her eyes so$5#1$ wide
242:197,13@a   | to$4$ the stupidity, the depravity, the ignorance of mankind,
242:197,14@a   | that$3$ she had been properly impressed with the
242:197,15@a   | infinite vulgarity of things and of the virtue of keeping
242:197,16@a   | one's self unspotted by$4$ it.  But this base, ignoble
242:197,17@a   | world, it appeared, was after all what one was to$9$ live
242:197,18@a   | for$4$; one was to$9$ keep it for*ever in$4$ one's eye, in$4$ order
242:197,19@a   | not to$9$ enlighten or convert or redeem it, but to$9$ extract
242:197,20@a   | from it some recognition of one's own superiority.
242:197,21@a   | On$4$ the one hand it was despicable, but on$4$ the 
242:197,22@a   | other it afforded a standard.  
242:197,22['  ]| Osmond had talked
242:197,23['  ]| to$4$ Isabel about his renunciation, his indifference, the 
242:197,24['  ]| ease with which$6#1$ he dispensed with the usual aids to$4$
242:197,25['  ]| success; and all this had seemed to$4$ her admirable.
242:197,26['  ]| She had thought it 
242:197,26@a   | a grand indifference, an exquisite
242:197,27@a   | independence.  But indifference was really the last
242:197,28@a   | of his qualities; she had never seen any*one who$6#1$ 
242:197,29@a   | thought so$5#1$ much of others.  For$4$ herself, avowedly,
242:197,30@a   | the world had always interested her and the study
242:197,31@a   | of her fellow creatures been her constant passion.
242:197,32@a   | She would have been willing, however, to$9$ renounce
242:198,01@a   | all her curiosities and sypathies for$4$ the sake of a 
242:198,02@a   | personal life, if the person concerned had only been
242:198,03@a   | able to$9$ make her believe it was a gain!  
242:198,03['  ]| This at least
242:198,04['  ]| was her present conviction; and the thing certainly
242:198,05['  ]| would have been easier than to$9$ care for$4$ society as
242:198,06['  ]| Osmond cared for$4$ it.
242:198,07['  ]| He was unable to$9$ live without it, and she saw that$3$
242:198,08@a   | he had never really done so$5#2$; he had looked at it out
242:198,09@a   | of his window even when he appeared to$9$ be most
242:198,10@a   | detached from it.  He had his ideal, just as she had
242:198,11@a   | tried to$9$ have hers; only it was strange that$3$ people
242:198,12@a   | should seek for$4$ justice in$4$ such different quarters.
242:198,13@a   | His ideal was a conception of high prosperity and
242:198,14@a   | propriety, of the aristocratic life, which$6#1$ she now saw
242:198,15@a   | that$3$ he deemed himself always, in$4$ essence at least,
242:198,16@a   | to$9$ have led.  He had never lapsed from it for$4$ an hour;
242:198,17@a   | he would never have recovered from the shame of
242:198,18@a   | doing so$5#2$.  That$6#2$ again was very well; here too she
242:198,19@a   | would have agreed; but they attached such different
242:198,20@a   | ideas, such different associations and desires, to$4$ the 
242:198,21@a   | same formulas.  Her notion of the aristocratic life
242:198,22@a   | was simply the union of great knowledge with great
242:198,23@a   | liberty; the knowledge would give one a sense of duty
242:198,24@a   | and the liberty a sense of enjoyment.  But for$4$ Osmond
242:198,25@a   | it was altogether a thing of forms, a conscious, calculated
242:198,26@a   | attitude.  He was fond of the old, the consecrated,
242:198,27@a   | the transmitted; so$3$ was she, but she pretended
242:198,28@a   | to$9$ do what she chose with it.  He had an
242:198,29@a   | immense esteem for$4$ tradition; he had told her once
242:198,30@a   | that$3$ the best thing in$4$ the world was to$9$ have it, but
242:198,31@a   | that$3$ if one was so$5#1$ unfortunate as not to$9$ have it one 
242:198,32@a   | must immediately proceed to$9$ make it.  She knew that$3$
242:199,01@a   | he meant by$4$ this that$3$ she had not it, but that$3$ he was
242:199,02@a   | better off; though from what source he had derived
242:199,03@a   | his traditions she never learned.  He had a very large
242:199,04@a   | collection of them, however; that$6#2$ was very certain,
242:199,05@a   | and after a little she began to$9$ see.  The great thing
242:199,06@a   | was to$9$ act in$4$ accordance with them; the great thing
242:199,07@a   | not only for$4$ him but for$4$ her.  
242:199,07['  ]| Isabel had an undefined
242:199,08['  ]| conviction that$3$ 
242:199,08@a   | to$9$ serve for$4$ another person than 
242:199,09@a   | their proprietor traditions must be of a thoroughly
242:199,10@a   | superior kind; 
242:199,10['  ]| but she nevertheless assented to$4$ this
242:199,11['  ]| intimation that$3$ 
242:199,11@a   | she too must march to$4$ the stately
242:199,12@a   | music that$6#1$ floated down from unknown periods in$4$
242:199,13@a   | her husband's past; she who$6#1$ of old had been so$5#1$ free
242:199,14@a   | of step, so$5#1$ desultory, so$5#1$ devious, so$5#1$ much the reverse
242:199,15@a   | of processional.  There were certain things they must
242:199,16@a   | do, a certain posture they must take, certain people
242:199,17@a   | they must know and not know.  
242:199,17['  ]| When she saw this
242:199,18['  ]| rigid system close about her, draped though it was
242:199,19['  ]| in$4$ pictured tapestries, that$6#2$ sense of darkness and
242:199,20['  ]| suffocation of which$6#1$ I have spoken took possession
242:199,21['  ]| of her; she seemed shut up$5$ with an odour of mould
242:199,22['  ]| and decay.  She had resisted of course; at first very
242:199,23['  ]| humorously, ironically, tenderly; then, as the situation
242:199,24['  ]| grew more serious, eagerly, passionately, pleadingly.
242:199,25['  ]| She had pleaded the cause of freedom, of doing as
242:199,26['  ]| they chose, of not caring for$4$ the aspect and denomination
242:199,27['  ]| of their life ~~ the cause of other instincts and 
242:199,28['  ]| longings, of quite another ideal.
242:199,29['  ]| Then it was that$3$ her husband's personality,
242:199,30['  ]| touched as it never had been, stepped forth and
242:199,31['  ]| stood erect.  The things she had said were answered
242:199,32['  ]| only by$4$ his scorn, and she could see he was ineffably
242:200,01['  ]| ashamed of her.  
242:200,01@a   | What did he think of her ~~ that$3$
242:200,02@a   | she was base, vulgar, ignoble?  He at least knew now
242:200,03@a   | that$3$ she had no$2$ traditions!  It had not been in$4$ his
242:200,04@a   | prevision of things that$3$ she should reveal such flatness;
242:200,05@a   | her sentiments were worthy of a radical newspaper
242:200,06@a   | or a Unitarian preacher.  The real offence, 
242:200,06['  ]| as she
242:200,07['  ]| ultimately perceived, 
242:200,07@a   | was her having a mind of her 
242:200,08@a   | own at all.  Her mind was to$9$ be his ~~ attached to$4$
242:200,09@a   | his own like$4$ a small garden-plot to$4$ a deer-park.  He
242:200,10@a   | would rake the soil gently and water the flowers; he
242:200,11@a   | would weed the beds and gather an occasional nosegay.
242:200,12@a   | It would be a pretty piece of property for$4$ a 
242:200,13@a   | proprietor already far-reaching.  He did not wish her
242:200,14@a   | to$9$ be stupid.  On$4$ the contrary, it was because she was
242:200,15@a   | clever that$3$ she had pleased him.  But he expected her
242:200,16@a   | intelligence to$9$ operate altogether in$4$ his favour, and
242:200,17@a   | so$5#1$ far from desiring her mind to$9$ be a blank he had
242:200,18@a   | flattered himself that$3$ it would be richly receptive.
242:200,19@a   | He had expected his wife to$9$ feel with him and for$4$
242:200,20@a   | him, to$9$ enter into his opinions, his ambitions, his
242:200,21@a   | preferences; 
242:200,21['  ]| and Isabel was obliged to$9$ confess that$3$
242:200,22@a   | this was no$2$ great insolence on$4$ the part of a man so$5#1$
242:200,23@a   | accomplished and a husband originally at least so$5#1$
242:200,24@a   | tender.  
242:200,24['  ]| But there were certain things she could never
242:200,25['  ]| take in$5$.  To$9$ begin with, they were hideously unclean.
242:200,26['  ]| She was not a daughter of the Puritans, but for$4$ all
242:200,27['  ]| that$6#2$ she believed in$4$ such a thing as chastity and even
242:200,28['  ]| as decency.  
242:200,28@a   | It would appear that$3$ Osmond was far
242:200,29@a   | from doing anything of the sort; 
242:200,29['  ]| some of his traditions
242:200,30['  ]| made her push back her skirts.  
242:200,30@a   | Did all women
242:200,31@a   | have lovers?  Did they all lie and even the best
242:200,32@a   | have their price?  Were there only three or four
242:201,01@a   | that$6#1$ did not deceive their husbands?  
242:201,01['  }| When Isabel
242:201,02['  ]| heard such things she felt a greater scorn for$4$ them
242:201,03['  ]| than for$4$ the gossip of a village parlour ~~ a scorn
242:201,04['  ]| that$6#1$ kept its freshness in$4$ a very tainted air.  There
242:201,05['  ]| was the taint of her sister-in-law: 
242:201,05@a   | did her husband
242:201,06@a   | judge only by$4$ the Countess Gemini?  This lady very
242:201,07@a   | often lied, and she had practised deceptions that$6#1$
242:201,08@a   | were not simply verbal.  
242:201,08['  ]| It was enough to$9$ find these
242:201,09['  ]| facts assumed among Osmond's traditions ~~ it was
242:201,10['  ]| enough without giving them such a general extension.
242:201,11['  ]| It was her scorn of his assumptions, it was this that$6#1$
242:201,12['  ]| made him draw himself up$5$.  He had plenty of contempt, 
242:201,13['  ]| and it was proper his wife should be as well
242:201,14['  ]| furnished; but that$3$ she should turn the hot light of
242:201,15['  ]| her disdain upon$4$ his own conception of things ~~
242:201,16['  ]| this was a danger he had not allowed for$4$.  He believed
242:201,17['  ]| he should have regulated her emotions before
242:201,18['  ]| she came to$4$ it; and Isabel could easily imagine how
242:201,19['  ]| his ears had scorched on$4$ his discovering he had been
242:201,20['  ]| too confident.  When one had a wife who$6#1$ gave one 
242:201,21['  ]| that$6#2$ sensation there was nothing left but to$9$ hate her.
242:201,22['  ]| She was morally certain now that$3$ this feeling of 
242:201,23['  ]| hatred, which$6#1$ at first had been a refuge and a refreshment,
242:201,24['  ]| had become the occupation and comfort of his
242:201,25['  ]| life.  The feeling was deep, because it was sincere;
242:201,26['  ]| he had had the revelation that$3$ she could after all
242:201,27['  ]| dispense with him.  If to$4$ herself the idea was startling,
242:201,28['  ]| if it presented itself at first as a kind of infidelity, a 
242:201,29['  ]| capacity for$4$ pollution, what infinite effect might it not
242:201,30['  ]| be expected to$9$ have had upon$4$ \him\?  
242:201,30@a   | It was very
242:201,31@a   | simple; he despised her; she had no$2$ traditions and
242:201,32@a   | the moral horizon of a Unitarian minister.  
242:201,32['  ]| Poor
242:202,01['  ]| Isabel, who$6#1$ had never been able to$9$ understand Unitarianism!
242:202,02['  ]| This was the certitude she had been living
242:202,03['  ]| with now for$4$ a time that$6#1$ she had ceased to$9$ measure.
242:202,04@a   | What was coming ~~ what was before them?
242:202,05['  ]| That$6#2$ was her constant question.  
242:202,05@a   | What would he
242:202,06@a   | do ~~ what ought \she\ to$9$ do?  When a man hated
242:202,07@a   | his wife what did it lead to$4$?  She did not hate him,
242:202,08@a   | that$6#2$ she was sure of, for$3$ every little while she felt
242:202,09@a   | a passionate wish to$9$ give him a pleasant surprise.
242:202,10['  ]| Very often, however, she felt afraid, and it used to$9$
242:202,11['  ]| come over her, as I have intimated, that$3$ 
242:202,11@a   | she had
242:202,12@a   | deceived him at the very first.  They were strangely
242:202,13@a   | married, at all events, and it was a horrible life.  Until
242:202,14@a   | that$6#2$ morning he had scarcely spoken to$4$ her for$4$ a 
242:202,15@a   | week; his manner was as dry as a burned-out fire.
242:202,16@a   | She knew there was a special reason; he was displeased
242:202,17@a   | at Ralph*Touchett's staying on$5$ in$4$ Rome.
242:202,18@a   | He thought she saw too much of her cousin ~~ he
242:202,19@a   | had told her a week before it was indecent she should
242:202,20@a   | go to$4$ him at his hotel.  He would have said more
242:202,21@a   | than this if Ralph's invalid state had not appeared to$9$
242:202,22@a   | make it brutal to$9$ denounce him; but having had to$9$
242:202,23@a   | contain himself had only deepened his disgust.  
242:202,23['  ]| Isabel
242:202,24['  ]| read all this as she would have read the hour on$4$ the 
242:202,25['  ]| clock-face; she was as perfectly aware that$3$ 
242:202,25@a   | the sight
242:202,26@a   | of her interest in$4$ her cousin stirred her husband's
242:202,27@a   | rage as if Osmond had locked her into her room ~~
242:202,28@a   | which$6#1$ she was sure was what he wanted to$9$ do.  
242:202,28['  ]| It
242:202,29['  ]| was her honest belief that$3$ 
242:202,29@a   | on$4$ the whole she was not
242:202,30@a   | defiant, but she certainly could not pretend to$9$ be 
242:202,31@a   | indifferent to$4$ Ralph.  She believed he was dying at 
242:202,32@a   | last and that$3$ she should never see him again, 
242:202,32['  ]| and
242:203,01['  ]| this gave her a tenderness for$4$ him that$6#1$ she had never
242:203,02['  ]| known before.  Nothing was a pleasure to$4$ her now;
242:203,03['  ]| how could anything be a pleasure to$4$ a woman who$6#1$ 
242:203,04['  ]| knew that$3$ she had thrown away her life?  There was
242:203,05['  ]| an everlasting weight on$4$ her heart ~~ there was a 
242:203,06['  ]| livid light on$4$ everything.  But Ralph's little visit was
242:203,07['  ]| a lamp in$4$ the darkness; for$4$ the hour that$6#1$ she sat
242:203,08['  ]| with him her ache for$4$ herself became somehow her
242:203,09['  ]| ache for$4$ \him\.  
242:203,09@a   | She felt to-day as if he had been her
242:203,10@a   | brother.  She had never had a brother, but if she
242:203,11@a   | had and she were in$4$ trouble and he were dying, he
242:203,12@a   | would be dear to$4$ her as Ralph was.  Ah yes, if Gilbert
242:203,13@a   | was jealous of her there was perhaps some reason;
242:203,14@a   | it did not make Gilbert look better to$9$ sit for$4$ half
242:203,15@a   | an hour with Ralph.  It was not that$3$ they talked of
242:203,16@a   | him ~~ it was not that$3$ she complained.  His name
242:203,17@a   | was never uttered between them.  It was simply that$3$
242:203,18@a   | Ralph was generous and that$3$ her husband was not.
242:203,19@a   | There was something in$4$ Ralph's talk, in$4$ his smile,
242:203,20@a   | in$4$ the mere fact of his being in$4$ Rome, that$6#1$ made the
242:203,21@a   | blasted circle round which$6#1$ she walked more spacious.
242:203,22@a   | He made her feel the good of the world; he made 
242:203,23@a   | her feel what might have been.  He was after all as
242:203,24@a   | intelligent as Osmond ~~ quite apart from his being
242:203,25@a   | better.  
242:203,25['  ]| And thus it seemed to$4$ her an act of devotion
242:203,26['  ]| to$9$ conceal her misery from him.  She concealed
242:203,27['  ]| it elaborately; she was perpetually, in$4$ their talk, hanging
242:203,28['  ]| out curtains and arranging screens.  It lived
242:203,29['  ]| before her again ~~ it had never had time to$9$ die ~~
242:203,30['  ]| that$6#2$ morning in$4$ the garden at Florence when he had
242:203,31['  ]| warned her against Osmond.  She had only to$9$ close
242:203,32['  ]| her eyes to$9$ see the place, to$9$ hear his voice, to$9$ feel
242:204,01['  ]| the warm, sweet air.  
242:204,01@a   | How could he have known?
242:204,02@a   | What a mystery, what a wonder of wisdom!  As intelligent
242:204,03@a   | as Gilbert?  He was much more intelligent ~~
242:204,04@a   | to$9$ arrive at such a judgement as that$6#2$.  Gilbert had
242:204,05@a   | never been so$5#1$ deep, so$5#1$ just.  She had told him then
242:204,06@a   | that$3$ from her at least he should never know if he
242:204,07@a   | was right; and this was what she was taking care of 
242:204,08@a   | now.  
242:204,08['  ]| It gave her plenty to$9$ do; there was passion,
242:204,09['  ]| exaltation, religion in$4$ it.  Women find their religion
242:204,10['  ]| sometimes in$4$ strange exercises, and Isabel at present,
242:204,11['  ]| in$4$ playing a part before her cousin, had an idea that$3$
242:204,12['  ]| she was doing him a kindness.  It would have been
242:204,13['  ]| a kindness perhaps if he had been for$4$ a single instant
242:204,14['  ]| a dupe.  As it was, the kindness consisted mainly in$4$
242:204,15['  ]| trying to$9$ make him believe that$3$ he had once wounded
242:204,16['  ]| her greatly and that$3$ the event had put him to$4$ shame,
242:204,17['  ]| but that$3$, as she was very generous and he was so$5#1$ ill,
242:204,18['  ]| she bore him no$2$ grudge and even considerately forbore
242:204,19['  ]| to$9$ flaunt her happiness in$4$ his face.  Ralph smiled
242:204,20['  ]| to$4$ himself, as he lay on$4$ his sofa, at this extraordinary
242:204,21['  ]| form of consideration; but he forgave her for$4$ having
242:204,22['  ]| forgiven him.  She did not wish him to$9$ have the pain
242:204,23['  ]| of knowing she was unhappy: that$6#2$ was the great
242:204,24['  ]| thing, and it did not matter that$3$ such knowledge
242:204,25['  ]| would rather have righted him.
242:204,26['  ]| For$4$ herself, she lingered in$4$ the soundless saloon
242:204,27['  ]| long after the fire had gone out.  There was no$2$ danger
242:204,28['  ]| of her feeling the cold; she was in$4$ a fever.  She
242:204,29['  ]| heard the small hours strike, and then the great ones,
242:204,30['  ]| but her vigil took no$2$ heed of time.  Her mind, assailed
242:204,31['  ]| by$4$ visions, was in$4$ a state of extraordinary activity,
242:204,32['  ]| and her visions might as well come to$4$ her there, where
242:205,01['  ]| she sat up$5$ to$9$ meet them, as on$4$ her pillow, to$9$ make
242:205,02['  ]| a mockery of rest.  As I have said, she believed she
242:205,03['  ]| was not defiant, and what could be a better proof of
242:205,04['  ]| it than that$3$ she should linger there half the night,
242:205,05['  ]| trying to$9$ persuade herself that$3$ there was no$2$ reason
242:205,06['  ]| why Pansy should not be married as you would put
242:205,07['  ]| a letter in$4$ the post-office?  When the clock struck
242:205,08['  ]| four she got up$5$; she was going to$4$ bed at last, for$3$ the
242:205,09['  ]| lamp had long since gone out and the candles burned
242:205,10['  ]| down to$4$ their sockets.  But even then she stopped
242:205,11['  ]| again in$4$ the middle of the room and stood there gazing
242:205,12['  ]| at a remembered vision ~~ that$6#2$ of her husband
242:205,13['  ]| and Madame Merle unconsciously and familiarly
242:205,14['  ]| associated.
243:206,01['  ]| Three nights after this she took Pansy to$4$ a great
243:206,02['  ]| party, to$4$ which$6#1$ Osmond, who$6#1$ never went to$4$ dances,
243:206,03['  ]| did not accompany them.  Pansy was as ready for$4$
243:206,04['  ]| a dance as ever; she was not of a generalising turn
243:206,05['  ]| and had not extended to$4$ other pleasures the interdict
243:206,06['  ]| she had seen placed on$4$ those of love.  If she was
243:206,07['  ]| biding her time or hoping to$9$ circumvent her father she
243:206,08['  ]| must have had a prevision of success.  Isabel thought 
243:206,09['  ]| this unlikely; 
243:206,09@a   | it was much more likely that$3$ Pansy
243:206,10@a   | had simply determined to$9$ be a good girl.  She had
243:206,11@a   | never had such a chance, and she had a proper esteem
243:206,12@a   | for$4$ chances.  She carried herself no$2$ less attentively
243:206,13@a   | than usual and kept no$2$ less anxious an eye
243:206,14@a   | upon$4$ her vaporous skirts; she held her bouquet very
243:206,15@a   | tight and counted over the flowers for$4$ the twentieth
243:206,16@a   | time. 
243:206,16['  ]| She made Isabel feel old; 
243:206,16@a   | it seemed so$5#1$ long
243:206,17@a   | since she had been in$4$ a flutter about a ball.  
243:206,17['  ]| Pansy,
243:206,18['  ]| who$6#1$ was greatly admired, was never in$4$ want of partners,
243:206,19['  ]| and very soon after their arrival she gave Isabel,
243:206,20['  ]| who$6#1$ was not dancing, her bouquet to$9$ hold.  Isabel
243:206,21['  ]| had rendered her this service for$4$ some minutes when 
243:206,22['  ]| she became aware of the near presence of Edward*Rosier.
243:206,23['  ]| He stood before her; he had lost his affable
243:206,24['  ]| smile and wore a look of almost military resolution.
243:206,25['  ]| The change in$4$ his appearance would have made
243:206,26['  ]| Isabel smile if she had not felt his case to$9$ be at
243:206,27['  ]| bottom a hard one: he had always smelt so$5#1$ much
243:207,01['  ]| more of heliotrope than of gunpowder.  He looked
243:207,02['  ]| at her a moment somewhat fiercely, as if to$9$ notify
243:207,03['  ]| her he was dangerous, and then dropped his eyes
243:207,04['  ]| on$4$ her bouquet.  After he had inspected it his glance
243:207,05['  ]| softened and he said quickly:
243:207,05[L  ]| "It is all pansies; it
243:207,06[L  ]| must be hers!"
243:207,07['  ]| Isabel smiled kindly.  
243:207,07[A  ]| "Yes, it is hers; she gave
243:207,08[A  ]| it to$4$ me to$9$ hold."
243:207,09[L  ]| "May I hold it a little, Mrs%*Osmond?" 
243:207,09['  ]| the poor
243:207,10['  ]| young man asked.
243:207,11[A  ]| "No$7$, I can not trust you; I am afraid you would not
243:207,12[A  ]| give it back."
243:207,13[L  ]| "I am not sure that$3$ I should; I should leave the 
243:207,14[L  ]| house with it instantly.  But may I not at least have 
243:207,15[L  ]| a single flower?"
243:207,16['  ]| Isabel hesitated a moment, and then, smiling still,
243:207,17['  ]| held out the bouquet.  
243:207,17[A  ]| "Choose one yourself.  It is
243:207,18[A  ]| frightful what I am doing for$4$ you."
243:207,19[L  ]| "Ah, if you do no$2$ more than this, Mrs%*Osmond!"
243:207,20['  ]| Rosier exclaimed with his glass in$4$ one eye, carefully
243:207,21['  ]| choosing his flower.
243:207,22[A  ]| "Do not put it into your button-hole," 
243:207,22['  ]| she said.
243:207,23[A  ]| "Do not for$4$ the world!"
243:207,24[L  ]| "I should like$1$ her to$9$ see it.  She has refused to$9$ 
243:207,25[L  ]| dance with me, but I wish to$9$ show her that$3$ I believe
243:207,26[L  ]| in$4$ her still."
243:207,27[A  ]| "It is very well to$9$ show it to$4$ her, but it is out of 
243:207,28[A  ]| place to$9$ show it to$4$ others.  Her father has told her
243:207,29[A  ]| not to$9$ dance with you."
243:207,30[L  ]| "And is that$6#2$ all \you\ can do for$4$ me?  I expected
243:207,31[L  ]| more from you, Mrs%*Osmond," 
243:207,31['  ]| said the young man
243:207,32['  ]| in$4$ a tone of fine general reference.  
243:207,32[L  ]| "You know our
243:208,01[L  ]| acquaintance goes back very far ~~ quite into the
243:208,02[L  ]| days of our innocent childhood."
243:208,03[A  ]| "Do not make me out too old," 
243:208,03['  ]| Isabel patiently
243:208,04['  ]| answered.  
243:208,04[A  ]| "You come back to$4$ that$6#2$ very often, and
243:208,05[A  ]| I have never denied it.  But I must tell you that$3$, old
243:208,06[A  ]| friends as we are, if you had done me the honour
243:208,07[A  ]| to$9$ ask me to$9$ marry you I should have refused you
243:208,08[A  ]| on$4$ the spot."
243:208,09[L  ]| "Ah, you do not esteem me then.  Say at once that$3$ 
243:208,10[L  ]| you think me a mere Parisian trifler!"
243:208,11[A  ]| "I esteem you very much, but I am not in$4$ love with
243:208,12[A  ]| you.  What I mean by$4$ that$3$, of course, is that$3$ I am
243:208,13[A  ]| not in$4$ love with you for$4$ Pansy."
243:208,14[L  ]| "Very good; I see.  You pity me ~~ that$6#2$ is all."
243:208,15['  ]| And Edward*Rosier looked all round, inconsequently,
243:208,16['  ]| with his single glass.  It was a revelation to$4$ him that$3$
243:208,17['  ]| people should not be more pleased; but he was at
243:208,18['  ]| least too proud to$9$ show that$3$ the deficiency struck
243:208,19['  ]| him as general.
243:208,20['  ]| Isabel for$4$ a moment said nothing.  His manner
243:208,21['  ]| and appearance had not the dignity of the deepest
243:208,22['  ]| tragedy; his little glass, among other things, was
243:208,23['  ]| against that$6#2$.  But she suddenly felt touched; 
243:208,23@a   | her
243:208,24@a   | own unhappiness, after all, had something in$4$ common 
243:208,25@a   | with his, 
243:208,25['  ]| and it came over her, more than before,
243:208,26['  ]| that$3$ 
243:208,26@a   | here, in$4$ recognisable, if not in$4$ romantic
243:208,27@a   | form, was the most affecting thing in$4$ the world ~~
243:208,28@a   | young love struggling with adversity.  
243:208,28[A  ]| "Would you
243:208,29[A  ]| really be very kind to$4$ her?" 
243:208,29['  ]| she finally asked in$4$
243:208,30['  ]| a low tone.
243:208,31['  ]| He dropped his eyes devoutly and raised the little
243:208,32['  ]| flower that$6#1$ he held in$4$ his fingers to$4$ his lips.  Then
243:209,01[L  ]| he looked at her.  
243:209,01[L  ]| "You pity me; but do not you pity
243:209,02[L  ]| \her\ a little?"
243:209,03[A  ]| "I do not know; I am not sure.  She will$1$ always enjoy
243:209,04[A  ]| life."
243:209,05[L  ]| "It will$1$ depend on$4$ what you call life!" 
243:209,05['  ]| Mr%*Rosier
243:209,06['  ]| effectively said.  
243:209,06[L  ]| "She will$1$ not enjoy being tortured."
243:209,07[A  ]| "There will$1$ be nothing of that$6#2$."
243:209,08[L  ]| "I am glad to$9$ hear it.  She knows what she is about.
243:209,09[L  ]| You will$1$ see."
243:209,10[A  ]| "I think she does, and she will$1$ never disobey her
243:209,11[A  ]| father.  But she is coming back to$4$ me," 
243:209,11['  ]| Isabel added,
243:209,12[A  ]| "and I must beg you to$9$ go away."
243:209,13['  ]| Rosier lingered a moment till Pansy came in$4$ sight
243:209,14['  ]| on$4$ the arm of her cavalier; he stood just long enough
243:209,15['  ]| to$9$ look her in$4$ the face.  Then he walked away, holding
243:209,16['  ]| up$5$ his head; and the manner in$4$ which$6#1$ he achieved
243:209,17['  ]| this sacrifice to$4$ expediency convinced Isabel he was
243:209,18['  ]| very much in$4$ love.
243:209,19['  ]| Pansy, who$6#1$ seldom got disarranged in$4$ dancing,
243:209,20['  ]| looking perfectly fresh and cool after this exercise,
243:209,21['  ]| waited a moment and then took back her bouquet.
243:209,22['  ]| Isabel watched her and saw she was counting the 
243:209,23['  ]| flowers; whereupon she said to$4$ herself that$3$ 
243:209,23@a   | decidedly
243:209,24@a   | there were deeper forces at play than she had recognised.
243:209,25['  ]| Pansy had seen Rosier turn away, but she 
243:209,26['  ]| said nothing to$4$ Isabel about him; she talked only
243:209,27['  ]| of her partner, after he had made his bow and retired;
243:209,28['  ]| of the music, the floor, the rare misfortune
243:209,29['  ]| of having already torn her dress.  Isabel was sure,
243:209,30['  ]| however, she had discovered her lover to$9$ have abstracted
243:209,31['  ]| a flower; though this knowledge was not
243:209,32['  ]| needed to$9$ account for$4$ the dutiful grace with which$6#1$
243:210,01['  ]| she responded to$4$ the appeal of her next partner.
243:210,02['  ]| That$6#2$ perfect amenity under acute constraint was
243:210,03['  ]| part of a larger system.  She was again led forth by$4$
243:210,04['  ]| a flushed young man, this time carrying her bouquet;
243:210,05['  ]| and she had not been absent many minutes 
243:210,06['  ]| when Isabel saw Lord*Warburton advancing through
243:210,07['  ]| the crowd.  He presently drew near and bade her
243:210,08['  ]| good-evening; she had not seen him since the day
243:210,09['  ]| before.  He looked about him, and then 
243:210,09[D  ]| "Where is
243:210,10[D  ]| the little maid?" 
243:210,10['  ]| he asked.  It was in$4$ this manner
243:210,11['  ]| that$3$ he had formed the harmless habit of alluding
243:210,12['  ]| to$4$ Miss*Osmond.
243:210,13[A  ]| "She is dancing," 
243:210,13['  ]| said Isabel.  
243:210,13[A  ]| "You will$1$ see her
243:210,14[A  ]| somewhere."
243:210,15['  ]| He looked among the dancers and at last caught
243:210,16['  ]| Pansy's eye.  
243:210,16[D  ]| "She sees me, but she will$1$ not notice
243:210,17[D  ]| me," 
243:210,17['  ]| he then remarked.  
243:210,17[D  ]| "Are you not dancing?"
243:210,18[A  ]| "As you see, I am a wall-flower."
243:210,19[D  ]| "will$1$ not you dance with me?"
243:210,20[A  ]| "Thank you; I would rather you should dance with
243:210,21[A  ]| the little maid."
243:210,22[D  ]| "One need not prevent the other ~~ especially as
243:210,23[D  ]| she is engaged."
243:210,24[A  ]| "She is not engaged for$4$ everything, and you can
243:210,25[A  ]| reserve yourself.  She dances very hard, and you will$1$
243:210,26[A  ]| be the fresher."
243:210,27[D  ]| "She dances beautifully," 
243:210,27['  ]| said Lord*Warburton,
243:210,28['  ]| following her with his eyes.  
243:210,28[D  ]| "Ah, at last," 
243:210,28['  ]| he added,
243:210,29[D  ]| "she has given me a smile."  
243:210,29['  ]| He stood there with
243:210,30['  ]| his handsome, easy, important physiognomy; and
243:210,31['  ]| as Isabel observed him it came over her, as it had
243:210,32['  ]| done before, that$3$ 
243:210,32@a   | it was strange a man of his mettle
243:211,01@a   | should take an interest in$4$ a little maid.  
243:211,01['  ]| It struck her
243:211,02['  ]| as a great incongruity; 
243:211,02@a   | neither Pansy's small fascinations,
243:211,03@a   | nor his own kindness, his good-nature, not even
243:211,04@a   | his need for$4$ amusement, which$6#1$ was extreme and constant,
243:211,05@a   | were sufficient to$9$ account for$4$ it.  
243:211,05[D  ]| "I should
243:211,06[D  ]| like$1$ to$9$ dance with you," 
243:211,06['  ]| he went on$5$ in$4$ a moment,
243:211,07['  ]| turning back to$4$ Isabel; 
243:211,07[D  ]| "but I think I like$1$ even 
243:211,08[D  ]| better to$9$ talk with you."
243:211,09[A  ]| "Yes, it is better, and it is more worthy of your
243:211,10[A  ]| dignity.  Great statesmen ought not to$9$ waltz."
243:211,11[D  ]| "Do not be cruel.  Why did you recommend me
243:211,12[D  ]| then to$9$ dance with Miss*Osmond?"
243:211,13[A  ]| "Ah, that$6#2$ is different.  If you danced with her it
243:211,14[A  ]| would look simply like$4$ a piece of kindness ~~ as if
243:211,15[A  ]| you were doing it for$4$ her amusement.  If you dance
243:211,16[A  ]| with me you will$1$ look as if you were doing it for$4$ your
243:211,17[A  ]| own."
243:211,18[D  ]| "And pray have not I a right to$9$ amuse myself?"
243:211,19[A  ]| "No$7$, not with the affairs of the British*Empire
243:211,20[A  ]| on$4$ your hands."
243:211,21[D  ]| "The British*Empire be hanged!  You are always
243:211,22[D  ]| laughing at it."
243:211,23[A  ]| "Amuse yourself with talking to$4$ me," 
243:211,23['  ]| said Isabel.
243:211,24['  ]| 
243:211,25[D  ]| "I am not sure it is really a recreation.  You are
243:211,26[D  ]| too pointed; I have always to$9$ be defending myself.
243:211,27[D  ]| And you strike me as more than usually dangerous
243:211,28[D  ]| to-night.  Will$1$ you absolutely not dance?"
243:211,29[A  ]| "I can not leave my place.  Pansy must find me
243:211,30[A  ]| here."
243:211,31['  ]| He was silent a little.  
243:211,31[D  ]| "You are wonderfully good
243:211,32[D  ]| to$4$ her," 
243:211,32['  ]| he said suddenly.
243:212,01['  ]| Isabel stared a little and smiled.  
243:212,01[A  ]| "Can you imagine
243:212,02[A  ]| one's not being?"
243:212,03[D  ]| "No$7$ indeed.  I know how one is charmed with
243:212,04[D  ]| her.  But you must have done a great deal for$4$ her."
243:212,05[A  ]| "I have taken her out with me," 
243:212,05['  ]| said Isabel, smiling
243:212,06['  ]| still.  
243:212,06[A  ]| "And I have seen that$3$ she has proper clothes."
243:212,07[D  ]| "Your society must have been a great benefit to$4$
243:212,08[D  ]| her.  You have talked to$4$ her, advised her, helped her
243:212,09[D  ]| to$9$ develop."
243:212,10[A  ]| "Ah yes, if she is not the rose she has lived near
243:212,11[A  ]| it."
243:212,12['  ]| She laughed, and her companion did as much;
243:212,13['  ]| but there was a certain visible preoccupation in$4$ his
243:212,14['  ]| face which$6#1$ interfered with complete hilarity.  
243:212,14[D  ]| "We
243:212,15[D  ]| all try to$9$ live as near it as we can," 
243:212,15['  ]| he said after a 
243:212,16['  ]| moment's hesitation.
243:212,17['  ]| Isabel turned away; Pansy was about to$9$ be restored
243:212,18['  ]| to$4$ her, and she welcomed the diversion.  We
243:212,19['  ]| know how much she liked Lord*Warburton; she
243:212,20['  ]| thought him pleasanter even than the sum of his
243:212,21['  ]| merits warranted; 
243:212,21@a   | there was something in$4$ his friendship
243:212,22@a   | that$6#1$ appeared a kind of resource in$4$ case of indefinite
243:212,23@a   | need; it was like$4$ having a large balance at
243:212,24@a   | the bank.  She felt happier when he was in$4$ the room;
243:212,25@a   | there was something reassuring in$4$ his approach; the
243:212,26@a   | sound of his voice reminded her of the beneficence
243:212,27@a   | of nature.  Yet for$4$ all that$6#2$ it did not suit her that$3$
243:212,28@a   | he should be too near her, that$3$ he should take too
243:212,29@a   | much of her good-will for$4$ granted.  She was afraid
243:212,30@a   | of that$6#2$; she averted herself from it; she wished he
243:212,31@a   | would not.  She felt that$3$ if he should come too near,
243:212,32@a   | as it were, it might be in$4$ her to$9$ flash out and bid him
243:213,01@a   | keep his distance.  
243:213,01['  ]| Pansy came back to$4$ Isabel with
243:213,02['  ]| another rent in$4$ her skirt, which$6#1$ was the inevitable
243:213,03['  ]| consequence of the first and which$6#1$ she displayed to$4$
243:213,04['  ]| Isabel with serious eyes.  There were too many gentlemen
243:213,05['  ]| in$4$ uniform; they wore those dreadful spurs,
243:213,06['  ]| which$6#1$ were fatal to$4$ the dresses of little maids.  It
243:213,07['  ]| hereupon became apparent that$3$ the resources of
243:213,08['  ]| women are innumerable.  Isabel devoted herself to$4$ 
243:213,09['  ]| Pansy's desecrated drapery; she fumbled for$4$ a pin
243:213,10['  ]| and repaired the injury; she smiled and listened to$4$
243:213,11['  ]| her account of her adventures.  Her attention, her
243:213,12['  ]| sympathy were immediate and active; and they were
243:213,13['  ]| in$4$ direct proportion to$4$ a sentiment with which$6#1$ they
243:213,14['  ]| were in$4$ no$2$ way connected ~~ 
243:213,14@a   | a lively conjecture as
243:213,15@a   | to$4$ whether Lord*Warburton might be trying to$9$ make
243:213,16@a   | love to$4$ her.  It was not simply his words just then;
243:213,17@a   | it was others as well; it was the reference and the 
243:213,18@a   | continuity.  
243:213,18['  ]| This was what she thought about while
243:213,19['  ]| she pinned up$5$ Pansy's dress.  
243:213,19@a   | If it were so$5#2$, as she
243:213,20@a   | feared, he was of course unwitting; he himself had
243:213,21@a   | not taken account of his intention.  But this made
243:213,22@a   | it none the more auspicious, made the situation none
243:213,23@a   | less impossible.  The sooner he should get back into
243:213,24@a   | right relations with things the better.  
243:213,24['  ]| He immediately
243:213,25['  ]| began to$9$ talk to$4$ Pansy ~~ on$4$ whom it was certainly
243:213,26['  ]| mystifying to$9$ see that$3$ he dropped a smile of
243:213,27['  ]| chastened devotion.  Pansy replied, as usual, with a
243:213,28['  ]| little air of conscientious aspiration; he had to$9$ bend
243:213,29['  ]| toward her a good deal in$4$ conversation, and her
243:213,30['  ]| eyes, as usual, wandered up$4$ and down his robust
243:213,31['  ]| person as if he had offered it to$4$ her for$4$ exhibition.
243:213,32['  ]| She always seemed a little frightened; yet her fright
243:214,01['  ]| was not of the painful character that$6#1$ suggests dislike;
243:214,02['  ]| on$4$ the contrary, she looked as if she knew that$3$
243:214,03['  ]| he knew she liked him.  Isabel left them together
243:214,04['  ]| a little and wandered toward a friend whom she saw
243:214,05['  ]| near and with whom she talked till the music of the 
243:214,06['  ]| following dance began, for$4$ which$6#1$ she knew Pansy to$9$
243:214,07['  ]| be also engaged.  The girl joined her presently, with
243:214,08['  ]| a little fluttered flush, and Isabel, who$6#1$ scrupulously
243:214,09['  ]| took Osmond's view of his daughter's complete dependence,
243:214,10['  ]| consigned her, as a precious and momentary
243:214,11['  ]| loan, to$4$ her appointed partner.  About all this
243:214,12['  ]| matter she had her own imaginations, her own reserves; 
243:214,13['  ]| there were moments when Pansy's extreme
243:214,14['  ]| adhesiveness made each of them, to$4$ her sense, look
243:214,15['  ]| foolish.  But Osmond had given her a sort of tableau
243:214,16['  ]| of her position as his daughter's duenna, which$6#1$ consisted
243:214,17['  ]| of gracious alternations of concession and 
243:214,18['  ]| contraction; and there were directions of his which$6#1$
243:214,19['  ]| she liked to$9$ think she obeyed to$4$ the letter.  Perhaps,
243:214,20['  ]| as regards some of them, it was because her doing
243:214,21['  ]| so$5#2$ appeared to$9$ reduce them to$4$ the absurd.
243:214,22['  ]| After Pansy had been led away, she found Lord*Warburton 
243:214,23['  ]| drawing near her again.  She rested her
243:214,24['  ]| eyes on$4$ him steadily; she wished she could sound
243:214,25['  ]| his thoughts.  But he had no$2$ appearance of confusion.
243:214,26[D  ]| "She has promised to$9$ dance with me later,"
243:214,27['  ]| he said.
243:214,28[A  ]| "I am glad of that$6#2$.  I suppose you have engaged
243:214,29[A  ]| her for$4$ the cotillion."
243:214,30['  ]| At this he looked a little awkward.  
243:214,30[D  ]| "No$7$, I did not 
243:214,31[D  ]| ask her for$4$ that$6#2$.  It is a quadrille."
243:214,32[A  ]| "Ah, you are not clever!" 
243:214,32['  ]| said Isabel almost
243:215,01['  ]| angrily.  
243:215,01[A  ]| "I told her to$9$ keep the cotillion in$4$ case you
243:215,02[A  ]| should ask for$4$ it."
243:215,03[D  ]| "Poor little maid, fancy that$6#2$!"  
243:215,03['  ]| And Lord*Warburton
243:215,04['  ]| laughed frankly.  
243:215,04[D  ]| "Of course I will$1$ if you
243:215,05[D  ]| like$1$."
243:215,06[A  ]| "If I like$1$? Oh, if you dance with her only because
243:215,07[A  ]| I like$1$ it ~~ !"
243:215,08[D  ]| "I am afraid I bore her.  She seems to$9$ have a lot
243:215,09[D  ]| of young fellows on$4$ her book."
243:215,10['  ]| Isabel dropped her eyes, reflecting rapidly; Lord*Warburton
243:215,11['  ]| stood there looking at her and she felt
243:215,12['  ]| his eyes on$4$ her face.  She felt much inclined to$9$ ask
243:215,13['  ]| him to$9$ remove them.  She did not do so$5#2$, however;
243:215,14['  ]| she only said to$4$ him, after a minute, with her own
243:215,15['  ]| raised:
243:215,15[A  ]| "Please let me understand."
243:215,16[D  ]| "Understand what?"
243:215,17[A  ]| "You told me ten days ago that$3$ you would like$1$ to$9$ marry
243:215,18[A  ]| my stepdaughter.  You have not forgotten it!"
243:215,19[D  ]| "Forgotten it?  I wrote to$4$ Mr%*Osmond about it
243:215,20[D  ]| this morning."
243:215,21[A  ]| "Ah," 
243:215,21['  ]| said Isabel, 
243:215,21[A  ]| "he did not mention to$4$ me that$3$ 
243:215,22[A  ]| he had heard from you."
243:215,23['  ]| Lord*Warburton stammered a little.  
243:215,23[D  ]| "I ~~ I
243:215,24[D  ]| did not send my letter."
243:215,25[A  ]| "Perhaps you forgot \that$6#2$\."
243:215,26[D  ]| "No$7$, I was not satisfied with it.  It is an awkward
243:215,27[D  ]| sort of letter to$9$ write, you know.  But I shall send
243:215,28[D  ]| it to-night."
243:215,29[A  ]| "At three o'clock in$4$ the morning?"
243:215,30[D  ]| "I mean later, in$4$ the course of the day."
243:215,31[A  ]| "Very good.  You still wish then to$9$ marry her?"
243:215,32[D  ]| "Very much indeed."
243:216,01[A  ]| "Are not you afraid that$3$ you will$1$ bore her?"  
243:216,01['  ]| And
243:216,02['  ]| as her companion stared at this enquiry Isabel added:
243:216,03[A  ]| "If she can not dance with you for$4$ half an hour how
243:216,04[A  ]| will$1$ she be able to$9$ dance with you for$4$ life?"
243:216,05[D  ]| "Ah," 
243:216,05['  ]| said Lord*Warburton readily, 
243:216,05[D  ]| "I will$1$ let her
243:216,06[D  ]| dance with other people!  About the cotillion, the
243:216,07[D  ]| fact is I thought that$3$ you ~~ that$3$ you ~"
243:216,08[A  ]| "That$3$ I would do it with you?  I told you I would
243:216,09[A  ]| do nothing."
243:216,10[D  ]| "Exactly; so$3$ that$3$ while it is going on$5$ I might find
243:216,11[D  ]| some quiet corner where we may sit down and talk."
243:216,12[A  ]| "Oh," 
243:216,12['  ]| said Isabel gravely, 
243:216,12[A  ]| "you are much too
243:216,13[A  ]| considerate of me."
243:216,14['  ]| When the cotillion came Pansy was found to$9$ have 
243:216,15['  ]| engaged herself, thinking, in$4$ perfect humility, that$3$
243:216,16['  ]| Lord*Warburton had no$2$ intentions.  Isabel recommended
243:216,17['  ]| him to$9$ seek another partner, but he assured
243:216,18['  ]| her that$3$ 
243:216,18@d   | he would dance with no*one but herself.
243:216,19['  ]| As, however, she had, in$4$ spite of the remonstrances
243:216,20['  ]| of her hostess, declined other invitations on$4$ the
243:216,21['  ]| ground that$3$ she was not dancing at all, it was not
243:216,22['  ]| possible for$4$ her to$9$ make an exception in$4$ Lord*Warburton's 
243:216,23['  ]| favour.
243:216,24[D  ]| "After all I do not care to$9$ dance," 
243:216,24['  ]| he said; 
243:216,24[D  ]| "it is
243:216,25[D  ]| a barbarous amusement: I would much rather talk."
243:216,26['  ]| And he intimated that$3$ 
243:216,26@d   | he had discovered exactly
243:216,27@d   | the corner he had been looking for$4$ ~~ a quiet nook
243:216,28@d   | in$4$ one of the smaller rooms, where the music would
243:216,29@d   | come to$4$ them faintly and not interfere with conversation.
243:216,30['  ]| Isabel had decided to$9$ let him carry out his
243:216,31['  ]| idea; she wished to$9$ be satisfied.  She wandered away
243:216,32['  ]| from the ball-room with him, though she knew
243:216,32@a   | her
243:217,01@a   | husband desired she should not lose sight of his
243:217,02@a   | daughter.  It was with his daughter's \9pre=tendant\,
243:217,03@a   | however; that$6#2$ would make it right for$4$ Osmond.  
243:217,03['  ]| On$4$
243:217,04['  ]| her way out of the ball-room she came upon$4$ Edward*Rosier,
243:217,05['  ]| who$6#1$ was standing in$4$ a doorway, with folded
243:217,06['  ]| arms, looking at the dance in$4$ the attitude of a young
243:217,07['  ]| man without illusions.  She stopped a moment and
243:217,08['  ]| asked him 
243:217,08@a   | if he were not dancing.
243:217,09[L  ]| "Certainly not, if I can not dance with \her\!" 
243:217,09['  ]| he
243:217,10['  ]| answered.
243:217,11[A  ]| "You had better go away then," 
243:217,11['  ]| said Isabel with
243:217,12['  ]| the manner of good counsel.
243:217,13[L  ]| "I shall not go till she does!"  
243:217,13['  ]| And he let Lord*Warburton
243:217,14['  ]| pass without giving him a look.
243:217,15['  ]| This nobleman, however, had noticed the melancholy 
243:217,16['  ]| youth, and he asked Isabel 
243:217,16@d   | who$6#1$ her dismal
243:217,17@d   | friend was, 
243:217,17['  ]| remarking that$3$ 
243:217,17@d   | he had seen him
243:217,18@d   | somewhere before.
243:217,19[A  ]| "It is the young man I have told you about, who$6#1$ is
243:217,20[A  ]| in$4$ love with Pansy."
243:217,21[D  ]| "Ah yes, I remember. He looks rather bad."
243:217,22[A  ]| "He has reason.  My husband will$1$ not listen to$4$
243:217,23[A  ]| him."
243:217,24[D  ]| "What is the matter with him?" 
243:217,24['  ]| Lord*Warburton
243:217,25['  ]| enquired.  
243:217,25[D  ]| "He seems very harmless."
243:217,26[A  ]| "He has not money enough, and he is not very
243:217,27[A  ]| clever."
243:217,28['  ]| Lord*Warburton listened with interest; he seemed
243:217,29['  ]| struck with this account of Edward*Rosier.  
243:217,29[D  ]| "Dear
243:217,30[D  ]| me; he looked a well-set-up young fellow."
243:217,31[A  ]| "So$5#2$ he is, but my husband is very particular."
243:217,32[D  ]| "Oh, I see."  
243:217,32['  ]| And Lord*Warburton paused a moment.
243:218,01[D  ]| "How much money has he got?" 
243:218,01['  ]| he then
243:218,02['  ]| ventured to$9$ ask.
243:218,03[A  ]| "Some forty thousand francs a year."
243:218,04[D  ]| "Sixteen hundred pounds?  Ah, but that$6#2$ is very
243:218,05[D  ]| good, you know."
243:218,06[A  ]| "So$5#2$ I think.  My husband, however, has larger
243:218,07[A  ]| ideas."
243:218,08[D  ]| "Yes; I have noticed that$3$ your husband has very
243:218,09[D  ]| large ideas.  Is he really an idiot, the young man?"
243:218,10[A  ]| "An idiot?  Not in$4$ the least; he is charming.
243:218,11[A  ]| When he was twelve years old I myself was in$4$ love
243:218,12[A  ]| with him."
243:218,13[D  ]| "He does not look much more than twelve to-day,"
243:218,14['  ]| Lord*Warburton rejoined vaguely, looking about
243:218,15['  ]| him.  Then with more point, 
243:218,15[D  ]| "Do not you think we
243:218,16[D  ]| might sit here?" 
243:218,16['  ]| he asked.
243:218,17[A  ]| "Wherever you please."  
243:218,17['  ]| The room was a sort of
243:218,18['  ]| boudoir, pervaded by$4$ a subdued, rose-coloured light;
243:218,19['  ]| a lady and gentleman moved out of it as our friends
243:218,20['  ]| came in$5$.  
243:218,20[A  ]| "It is very kind of you to$9$ take such an
243:218,21[A  ]| interest in$4$ Mr%*Rosier," 
243:218,21['  ]| Isabel said
243:218,22[D  ]| "He seems to$4$ me rather ill-treated.  He had a face
243:218,23[D  ]| a yard long.  I wondered what ailed him."
243:218,24[A  ]| "You are a just man," 
243:218,24['  ]| said Isabel.  
243:218,24[A  ]| "You have a 
243:218,25[A  ]| kind thought even for$4$ a rival."
243:218,26['  ]| Lord*Warburton suddenly turned with a stare.
243:218,27[D  ]| "A rival! Do you call him my rival?"
243:218,28[A  ]| "Surely ~~ if you both wish to$9$ marry the same
243:218,29[A  ]| person."
243:218,30[D  ]| "Yes ~~ but since he has no$2$ chance!"
243:218,31[A  ]| "I like$1$ you, however that$6#2$ may be, for$4$ putting yourself
243:218,32[A  ]| in$4$ his place.  It shows imagination."
243:219,01[D  ]| "You like$1$ me for$4$ it?"  
243:219,01['  ]| And Lord*Warburton
243:219,02['  ]| looked at her with an uncertain eye.  
243:219,02[D  ]| "I think you 
243:219,03[D  ]| mean you are laughing at me for$4$ it."
243:219,04[A  ]| "Yes, I am laughing at you a little.  But I like$1$ you
243:219,05[A  ]| as somebody to$9$ laugh at."
243:219,06[D  ]| "Ah well, then, let me enter into his situation a 
243:219,07[D  ]| little more.  What do you suppose one could do for$4$
243:219,08[D  ]| him?"
243:219,09[A  ]| "Since I have been praising your imagination I will$1$
243:219,10[A  ]| leave you to$9$ imagine that$6#2$ yourself," 
243:219,10['  ]| Isabel said.
243:219,11[A  ]| "Pansy too would like$1$ you for$4$ that$6#2$."
243:219,12[D  ]| "Miss*Osmond?  Ah, she, I flatter myself, likes
243:219,13[D  ]| me already."
243:219,14[A  ]| "Very much, I think."
243:219,15['  ]| He waited a little; he was still questioning her
243:219,16['  ]| face.  
243:219,16[D  ]| "Well then, I do not understand you.  You do not
243:219,17[D  ]| mean that$3$ she cares for$4$ him?"
243:219,18[A  ]| "Surely I have told you I thought she did."
243:219,19['  ]| A quick blush sprang to$4$ his brow.  
243:219,19[D  ]| "You told me
243:219,20[D  ]| she would have no$2$ wish apart from her father's, and
243:219,21[D  ]| as I have gathered that$3$ he would favour me ~~ !" 
243:219,21['  ]| He
243:219,22['  ]| paused a little and then suggested 
243:219,22[D  ]| "Do not you see?"
243:219,23['  ]| through his blush.
243:219,24[A  ]| "Yes, I told you she has an immense wish to$9$ please
243:219,25[A  ]| her father, and that$3$ it would probably take her very
243:219,26[A  ]| far."
243:219,27[D  ]| "That$6#2$ seems to$4$ me a very proper feeling," 
243:219,29['  ]| said
243:219,28['  ]| Lord*Warburton.
243:219,29[A  ]| "Certainly; it is a very proper feeling."  
243:219,29['  ]| Isabel
243:219,30['  ]| remained silent for$4$ some moments; the room continued
243:219,31['  ]| empty; the sound of the music reached them
243:219,32['  ]| with its richness softened by$4$ the interposing apartments.
243:220,01['  ]| Then at last she said:
243:220,01[A  ]| "But it hardly strikes
243:220,02[A  ]| me as the sort of feeling to$4$ which$6#1$ a man would wish
243:220,03[A  ]| to$9$ be indebted for$4$ a wife."
243:220,04[D  ]| "I do not know; if the wife is a good one and he
243:220,05[D  ]| thinks she does well!"
243:220,06[A  ]| "Yes, of course you must think that$6#2$."
243:220,07[D  ]| "I do; I can not help it.  You call that$6#2$ very British,
243:220,08[D  ]| of course."
243:220,09[A  ]| "No$7$, I do not. I think Pansy would do wonderfully
243:220,10[A  ]| well to$9$ marry you, and I do not know who$6#1$ should
243:220,11[A  ]| know it better than you.  But you are not in$4$ love."
243:220,12[D  ]| "Ah, yes I am, Mrs%*Osmond!"
243:220,13['  ]| Isabel shook her head.  
243:220,13[A  ]| "You like$1$ to$9$ think you
243:220,14[A  ]| are while you sit here with me.  But that$6#2$ is not how
243:220,15[A  ]| you strike me."
243:220,16[D  ]| "I am not like$4$ the young man in$4$ the doorway.  I 
243:220,17[D  ]| admit that$6#2$.  But what makes it so$5#1$ unnatural?  Could
243:220,18[D  ]| any*one in$4$ the world be more loveable than Miss*Osmond?"
243:220,19[D  ]| 
243:220,20[A  ]| "No*one, possibly.  But love has nothing to$9$ do 
243:220,21[A  ]| with good reasons."
243:220,22[D  ]| "I do not agree with you.  I am delighted to$9$ have
243:220,23[D  ]| good reasons."
243:220,24[A  ]| "Of course you are.  If you were really in$4$ love
243:220,25[A  ]| you would not care a straw for$4$ them."
243:220,26[D  ]| "Ah, really in$4$ love ~~ really in$4$ love!" 
243:220,26['  ]| Lord*Warburton
243:220,27['  ]| exclaimed, folding his arms, leaning back
243:220,28['  ]| his head and stretching himself a little.  
243:220,28[D  ]| "You must
243:220,29[D  ]| remember that$3$ I am forty-two years old.  I will$1$ not pretend
243:220,30[D  ]| I am as I once was."
243:220,31[A  ]| "Well, if you are sure," 
243:220,31['  ]| said Isabel, 
243:220,31[A  ]| "it is all right."
243:220,32['  ]| He answered nothing; he sat there, with his head
243:221,01['  ]| back, looking before him.  Abruptly, however, he
243:221,02['  ]| changed his position; he turned quickly to$4$ his friend.
243:221,03[D  ]| "Why are you so$5#1$ unwilling, so$5#1$ sceptical?"
243:221,04['  ]| She met his eyes, and for$4$ a moment they looked
243:221,05['  ]| straight at each other.  If she wished to$9$ be satisfied
243:221,06['  ]| she saw something that$6#1$ satisfied her; she saw in$4$ his
243:221,07['  ]| expression the gleam of an idea that$3$ she was uneasy
243:221,08['  ]| on$4$ her own account ~~ that$3$ she was perhaps even
243:221,09['  ]| in$4$ fear.  It showed a suspicion, not a hope, but such
243:221,10['  ]| as it was it told her what she wanted to$9$ know.  Not
243:221,11['  ]| for$4$ an instant should he suspect her of detecting in$4$ his
243:221,12['  ]| proposal of marrying her step-daughter an implication
243:221,13['  ]| of increased nearness to$4$ herself, or of thinking
243:221,14['  ]| it, on$4$ such a betrayal, ominous.  In$4$ that$6#2$ brief, extremely
243:221,15['  ]| personal gaze, however, deeper meanings
243:221,16['  ]| passed between them than they were conscious of at 
243:221,17['  ]| the moment.
243:221,18[A  ]| "My dear Lord*Warburton," 
243:222,18['  ]| she said, smiling,
243:221,19[A  ]| "you may do, so$5#1$ far as I am concerned, whatever
243:221,20[A  ]| comes into your head."
243:221,21['  ]| And with this she got up$5$ and wandered into the
243:221,22['  ]| adjoining room, where, within her companion's view,
243:221,23['  ]| she was immediately addressed by$4$ a pair of gentlemen,
243:221,24['  ]| high personages in$4$ the Roman world, who$6#1$ met
243:221,25['  ]| her as if they had been looking for$4$ her.  While she
243:221,26['  ]| talked with them she found herself regretting she
243:221,27['  ]| had moved; 
243:221,27@a   | it looked a little like$4$ running away ~~
243:221,28['  ]| all the more as Lord*Warburton did not follow her.
243:221,29['  ]| She was glad of this, however, and at any rate she
243:221,30['  ]| was satisfied.  She was so$5#1$ well satisfied that$3$ when,
243:221,31['  ]| in$4$ passing back into the ball-room, she found Edward*Rosier
243:221,32['  ]| still planted in$4$ the doorway, she stopped and
243:222,01['  ]| spoke to$4$ him again.  
243:222,01[A  ]| "You did right not to$9$ go away.
243:222,02[A  ]| I have some comfort for$4$ you."
243:222,03[L  ]| "I need it," 
243:222,03['  ]| the young man softly wailed, 
243:222,03[L  ]| "when
243:222,04[L  ]| I see you so$5#1$ awfully thick with \him\!"
243:222,05[A  ]| "Do not speak of him; I will$1$ do what I can for$4$ you.
243:222,06[A  ]| I am afraid it will$1$ not be much, but what I can I will$1$ do."
243:222,07['  ]| He looked at her with gloomy obliqueness.  
243:222,07[L  ]| "What
243:222,08[L  ]| has suddenly brought you round?"
243:222,09[A  ]| "The sense that$3$ you are an inconvenience in$4$ doorways!"
243:222,10['  ]| she answered, smiling as she passed him.
243:222,11['  ]| Half an hour later she took leave, with Pansy, and
243:222,12['  ]| at the foot of the staircase the two ladies, with many
243:222,13['  ]| other departing guests, waited a while for$4$ their carriage.
243:222,14['  ]| Just as it approached Lord*Warburton came 
243:222,15['  ]| out of the house and assisted them to$9$ reach their
243:222,16['  ]| vehicle.  He stood a moment at the door, asking
243:222,17['  ]| Pansy if she had amused herself; and she, having
243:222,18['  ]| answered him, fell back with a little air of fatigue.
243:222,19['  ]| Then Isabel, at the window, detaining him by$4$ a 
243:222,20['  ]| movement of her finger, murmured gently :
243:222,20[A  ]| "Do not
243:222,21[A  ]| forget to$9$ send your letter to$4$ her father!"
244:223,01['  ]| The Countess*Gemini was often extremely bored
244:223,02@j   | ~~ bored, 
244:233,02['  ]| in$4$ her own phrase, 
244:233,02@j   | to$4$ extinction.  
244:233,02['  ]| She had
244:223,03['  ]| not been extinguished, however, and she struggled
244:223,04['  ]| bravely enough with her destiny, which$6#1$ had been
244:223,05['  ]| to$9$ marry an unaccommodating Florentine who$6#1$ insisted
244:223,06['  ]| upon$4$ living in$4$ his native town, where he enjoyed
244:223,07['  ]| such consideration as might attach to$4$ a gentleman
244:223,08['  ]| whose talent for$4$ losing at cards had not
244:223,09['  ]| the merit of being incidental to$4$ an obliging disposition.
244:223,10['  ]| The Count*Gemini was not liked even by$4$ those
244:223,11['  ]| who$6#1$ won from him; and he bore a name which$6#1$, having
244:223,12['  ]| a measurable value in$4$ Florence, was, like$4$ the 
244:223,13['  ]| local coin of the old Italian states, without currency
244:223,14['  ]| in$4$ other parts of the peninsula.  In$4$ Rome he was
244:223,15['  ]| simply a very dull Florentine, and it is not remarkable
244:223,16['  ]| that$3$ he should not have cared to$9$ pay frequent
244:223,17['  ]| visits to$4$ a place where, to$9$ carry it off, his dulness
244:223,18['  ]| needed more explanation than was convenient.  The 
244:223,19['  ]| Countess lived with her eyes upon$4$ Rome, and it was
244:223,20['  ]| the constant grievance of her life that$3$ she had not
244:223,21['  ]| an habitation there.  She was ashamed to$9$ say 
244:223,21@j   | how
244:223,22@j   | seldom she had been allowed to$9$ visit that$6#2$ city; 
244:223,22['  ]| it
244:223,23['  ]| scarcely made the matter better that$3$ there were other
244:223,24['  ]| members of the Florentine nobility who$6#1$ never had
244:223,25['  ]| been there at all.  
244:223,25@j   | She went whenever she could; that$6#2$
244:223,26@j   | was all she could say.  
244:223,26['  ]| Or rather not all, but all she
244:224,01['  ]| said she could say.  In$4$ fact she had much more to$9$
244:224,02['  ]| say about it, and had often set forth the reasons why
244:224,03['  ]| she hated Florence and wished to$9$ end her days in$4$
244:224,04['  ]| the shadow of Saint*Peter's.  They are reasons, however,
244:224,05['  ]| that$6#1$ do not closely concern us, and were usually
244:224,06['  ]| summed up$5$ in$4$ the declaration that$3$ 
244:224,06@j   | Rome, in$4$ short,
244:224,07@j   | was the Eternal City and that$3$ Florence was simply
244:224,08@j   | a pretty little place like$4$ any other.  
244:224,08['  ]| The Countess
244:224,09['  ]| apparently needed to$9$ connect the idea of eternity
244:224,10['  ]| with her amusements.  She was convinced that$3$ 
244:224,10@j   | society
244:224,11@j   | was infinitely more interesting in$4$ Rome, where
244:224,12@j   | you met celebrities all winter at evening parties.  At
244:224,13@j   | Florence there were no$2$ celebrities; none at least
244:224,14@j   | that$6#1$ one had heard of.  
244:224,14['  ]| Since her brother's marriage
244:224,15['  ]| her impatience had greatly increased; 
244:224,15@j   | she was so$5#1$ 
244:224,16@j   | sure his wife had a more brilliant life than herself.
244:224,17@j   | She was not so$5#1$ intellectual as Isabel, but she was 
244:224,18@j   | intellectual enough to$9$ do justice to$4$ Rome ~~ not to$4$ 
244:224,19@j   | the ruins and the catacombs, not even perhaps to$4$
244:224,20@j   | the monuments and museums, the church ceremonies
244:224,21@j   | and the scenery; but certainly to$4$ all the rest.
244:224,22@j   | She heard a great deal about her sister-in-law and 
244:224,23@j   | knew perfectly that$3$ Isabel was having a beautiful
244:224,24@j   | time.  
244:224,24['  ]| She had indeed seen it for$4$ herself on$4$ the only
244:224,25['  ]| occasion on$4$ which$6#1$ she had enjoyed the hospitality
244:224,26['  ]| of Palazzo*Roccanera.  She had spent a week there
244:224,27['  ]| during the first winter of her brother's marriage,
244:224,28['  ]| but she had not been encouraged to$9$ renew this satisfaction.
244:224,29@j   | Osmond did not want her ~~ 
244:224,29['  ]| that$6#2$ she was 
244:224,30['  ]| perfectly aware of; 
244:224,30@j   | but she would have gone all the
244:224,31@j   | same, for$3$ after all she did not care two straws about
244:224,32@j   | Osmond.  It was her husband who$6#1$ would not let her,
244:225,01@j   | and the money question was always a trouble.  Isabel
244:225,02@j   | had been very nice; 
244:225,02['  ]| the Countess, who$6#1$ had liked
244:225,03['  ]| her sister-in-law from the first, had not been blinded
244:225,04['  ]| by$4$ envy to$4$ Isabel's personal merits.  She had always
244:225,05['  ]| observed that$3$ 
244:225,05@j   | she got on$5$ better with clever women
244:225,06@j   | than with silly ones like$4$ herself; the silly ones could
244:225,07@j   | never understand her wisdom, whereas the clever
244:225,08@j   | ones ~~ the really clever ones ~~ always understood
244:225,09@j   | her silliness.  
244:225,09['  ]| It appeared to$4$ her that$3$, 
244:225,09@j   | different as
244:225,10@j   | they were in$4$ appearance and general style, Isabel
244:225,11@j   | and she had somewhere a patch of common ground
244:225,12@j   | that$6#1$ they would set their feet upon$4$ at last.  It was
244:225,13@j   | not very large, but it was firm, and they should both
244:225,14@j   | know it when once they had really touched it.  
244:225,14['  ]| And
244:225,15['  ]| then she lived, with Mrs%*Osmond, under the influence
244:225,16['  ]| of a pleasant surprise; she was constantly expecting
244:225,17['  ]| that$3$ Isabel would "look down" on$4$ her, and
244:225,18['  ]| she as constantly saw this operation postponed.  She
244:225,19['  ]| asked herself when it would begin, like$4$ fire-works,
244:225,20['  ]| or Lent, or the opera season; not that$3$ she cared
244:225,21['  ]| much, but she wondered what kept it in$4$ abeyance.
244:225,22['  ]| Her sister-in-law regarded her with none but level
244:225,23['  ]| glances and expressed for$4$ the poor Countess as little
244:225,24['  ]| contempt as admiration.  In$4$ reality Isabel would
244:225,25['  ]| as soon have thought of despising her as of passing
244:225,26['  ]| a moral judgement on$4$ a grasshopper.  She was not
244:225,27['  ]| indifferent to$4$ her husband's sister, however; she was
244:225,28['  ]| rather a little afraid of her.  She wondered at her;
244:225,29['  ]| she thought her very extraordinary.  The Countess
244:225,30['  ]| seemed to$4$ her to$9$ have no$2$ soul; she was like$4$ a bright
244:225,31['  ]| rare shell, with a polished surface and a remarkably
244:225,32['  ]| pink lip, in$4$ which$6#1$ something would rattle when you
244:226,01['  ]| shook it.  This rattle was apparently the Countess's
244:226,02['  ]| spiritual principle, a little loose nut that$6#1$ tumbled
244:226,03['  ]| about inside of her.  She was too odd for$4$ disdain,
244:226,04['  ]| too anomalous for$4$ comparisons.  Isabel would have
244:226,05['  ]| invited her again (there was no$2$ question of inviting
244:226,06['  ]| the Count); but Osmond, after his marriage, had 
244:226,07['  ]| not scrupled to$9$ say frankly that$3$ 
244:226,07@c   | Amy was a fool of
244:226,08@c   | the worst species ~~ a fool whose folly had the irrepressibility
244:226,09@c   | of genius.  
244:226,09['  ]| He said at another time that$3$
244:226,10@c   | she had no$2$ heart; 
244:226,10['  ]| and he added in$4$ a moment that$3$
244:226,11@c   | she had given it all away ~~ in$4$ small pieces, like$4$ a
244:226,12@c   | frosted wedding-cake.  
244:226,12['  ]| The fact of not having been
244:226,13['  ]| asked was of course another obstacle to$4$ the Countess's
244:226,14['  ]| going again to$4$ Rome; but at the period with which$6#1$
244:226,15['  ]| this history has now to$9$ deal she was in$4$ receipt of an
244:226,16['  ]| invitation to$9$ spend several weeks at Palazzo*Roccanera.
244:226,17['  ]| The proposal had come from Osmond himself,
244:226,18['  ]| who$6#1$ wrote to$4$ his sister that$3$ 
244:226,18@c   | she must be prepared
244:226,19@c   | to$9$ be very quiet.  
244:226,19['  ]| Whether or not she found in$4$ this
244:226,20['  ]| phrase all the meaning he had put into it I am unable
244:226,21['  ]| to$9$ say; but she accepted the invitation on$4$ any terms.
244:226,22['  ]| She was curious, moreover; for$3$ one of the impressions
244:226,23['  ]| of her former visit had been that$3$ her brother had 
244:226,24['  ]| found his match.  Before the marriage she had been
244:226,25['  ]| sorry for$4$ Isabel, so$5#1$ sorry as to$9$ have had serious
244:226,26['  ]| thoughts ~~ if any of the Countess's thoughts were
244:226,27['  ]| serious ~~ of putting her on$4$ her guard.  But she had
244:226,28['  ]| let that$6#2$ pass, and after a little she was reassured.
244:226,29['  ]| Osmond was as lofty as ever, but his wife would
244:226,30['  ]| not be an easy victim.  The Countess was not very
244:226,31['  ]| exact at measurements, but it seemed to$4$ her that$3$ if
244:226,32['  ]| Isabel should draw herself up$5$ she would be the taller
244:227,01['  ]| spirit of the two.  What she wanted to$9$ learn now
244:227,02['  ]| was whether Isabel had drawn herself up$5$; it would
244:227,03['  ]| give her immense pleasure to$9$ see Osmond overtopped.
244:227,04['  ]| 
244:227,05['  ]| Several days before she was to$9$ start for$4$ Rome a 
244:227,06['  ]| servant brought her the card of a visitor ~~ a card
244:227,07['  ]| with the simple superscription "Henrietta*C%*Stackpole."
244:227,08['  ]| The Countess pressed her finger-tips to$4$ her
244:227,09['  ]| forehead; she did not remember to$9$ have known any
244:227,10['  ]| such Henrietta as that$6#2$.  The servant then remarked
244:227,11['  ]| that$3$ 
244:227,11@w   | the lady had requested him to$9$ say that$3$ if the 
244:227,12@w   | Countess should not recognise her name she would
244:227,13@w   | know her well enough on$4$ seeing her.  
244:227,13['  ]| By$4$ the time
244:227,14['  ]| she appeared before her visitor she had in$4$ fact reminded
244:227,15['  ]| herself that$3$ there was once a literary lady
244:227,16['  ]| at Mrs%*Touchett's; the only woman of letters she
244:227,17['  ]| had ever encountered ~~ that$6#2$ is the only modern one,
244:227,18['  ]| since she was the daughter of a defunct poetess.  She
244:227,19['  ]| recognised Miss*Stackpole immediately, the more
244:227,20['  ]| so$3$ that$3$ Miss*Stackpole seemed perfectly unchanged;
244:227,21['  ]| and the Countess, who$6#1$ was thoroughly good-natured,
244:227,22['  ]| thought it rather fine to$9$ be called on$5$ by$4$ a person of
244:227,23['  ]| that$6#2$ sort of distinction.  She wondered if Miss*Stackpole
244:227,24['  ]| had come on$4$ account of her mother ~~ whether
244:227,25['  ]| she had heard of the American*Corinne.  Her mother
244:227,26['  ]| was not at all like$4$ Isabel's friend; the Countess
244:227,27['  ]| could see at a glance that$3$ this lady was much more
244:227,28['  ]| contemporary; and she received an impression of 
244:227,29['  ]| the improvements that$6#1$ were taking place ~~ chiefly
244:227,30['  ]| in$4$ distant countries ~~ in$4$ the character (the professional
244:227,31['  ]| character) of literary ladies.  Her mother had 
244:227,32['  ]| been used to$9$ wear a Roman scarf thrown over a pair
244:228,01['  ]| of shoulders timorously bared of their tight black
244:228,02['  ]| velvet (oh the old clothes!) and a gold laurel-wreath
244:228,03['  ]| set upon$4$ a multitude of glossy ringlets.  She had
244:228,04['  ]| spoken softly and vaguely, with the accent of her
244:228,05['  ]| "Creole" ancestors, as she always confessed; she
244:228,06['  ]| sighed a great deal and was not at all enterprising.
244:228,07['  ]| But Henrietta, the Countess could see, was always
244:228,08['  ]| closely buttoned and compactly braided; there was
244:228,09['  ]| something brisk and business-like in$4$ her appearance;
244:228,10['  ]| her manner was almost conscientiously familiar.  It
244:228,11['  ]| was as impossible to$9$ imagine her ever vaguely sighing
244:228,12['  ]| as to$9$ imagine a letter posted without its address.  The
244:228,13['  ]| Countess could not but feel that$3$ the correspondent
244:228,14['  ]| of the \Interviewer\ was much more in$4$ the movement
244:228,15['  ]| than the American*Corinne.  She explained that$3$
244:228,16@i   | she had called on$4$ the Countess because she was the 
244:228,17@i   | only person she knew in$4$ Florence, and that$3$ when she
244:228,18@i   | visited a foreign city she liked to$9$ see something more
244:228,19@i   | than superficial travellers.  She knew Mrs%*Touchett,
244:228,20@i   | but Mrs%*Touchett was in$4$ America, and even if she 
244:228,21@i   | had been in$4$ Florence Henrietta would not have put
244:228,22@i   | herself out for$4$ her, since Mrs*Touchett was not one
244:228,23@i   | of her admirations.
244:228,24[J  ]| "Do you mean by$4$ that$6#2$ that$3$ I am?" 
244:228,24['  ]| the Countess
244:228,25['  ]| graciously asked.
244:228,26[I  ]| "Well, I like$1$ you better than I do her," 
244:228,26['  ]| said Miss%*Stackpole.
244:228,27[I  ]| "I seem to$9$ remember that$3$ when I saw
244:228,28[I  ]| you before you were very interesting.  I do not know
244:228,29[I  ]| whether it was an accident or whether it is your usual
244:228,30[I  ]| style.  At any rate I was a good deal struck with 
244:228,31[I  ]| what you said.  I made use of it afterwards in$4$
244:228,32[I  ]| print."
244:229,01[J  ]| "Dear me!" 
244:229,01['  ]| cried the Countess, staring and half-alarmed;
244:229,02[J  ]| "I had no$2$ idea I ever said anything remarkable! 
244:229,03[J  ]| I wish I had known it at the time."
244:229,04[I  ]| "It was about the position of woman in$4$ this city,"
244:229,05['  ]| Miss*Stackpole remarked.  
244:229,05[I  ]| "You threw a good deal
244:229,06[I  ]| of light upon$4$ it."
244:229,07[J  ]| "The position of woman is very uncomfortable.
244:229,08[J  ]| Is that$6#2$ what you mean?  And you wrote it down and
244:229,09[J  ]| published it?" 
244:229,09['  ]| the Countess went on$5$.  
244:229,09[J  ]| "Ah, do let
244:229,10[J  ]| me see it!"
244:229,11[I  ]| "I will$1$ write to$4$ them to$9$ send you the paper if you
244:229,12[I  ]| like$1$," 
244:229,12['  ]| Henrietta said.  
244:229,12[I  ]| "I did not mention your name;
244:229,13[I  ]| I only said a lady of high rank.  And then I quoted
244:229,14[I  ]| your views."
244:229,15['  ]| The Countess threw herself hastily backward,
244:229,16['  ]| tossing up$5$ her clasped hands.  
244:229,16[J  ]| "Do you know I am
244:229,17[J  ]| rather sorry you did not mention my name?  I should
244:229,18[J  ]| have rather liked to$9$ see my name in$4$ the papers.  I
244:229,19[J  ]| forget what my views were; I have so$5#1$ many!  But
244:229,20[J  ]| I am not ashamed of them.  I am not at all like$4$ my
244:229,21[J  ]| brother ~~ I suppose you know my brother?  He
244:229,22[J  ]| thinks it a kind of scandal to$9$ be put in$4$ the papers;
244:229,23[J  ]| if you were to$9$ quote him he would never forgive
244:229,24[J  ]| you."
244:229,25[I  ]| "He need not be afraid; I shall never refer to$4$ him,"
244:229,26['  ]| said Miss*Stackpole with bland dryness.  
244:229,26[I  ]| "That$6#2$ is
244:229,27[I  ]| another reason," 
244:229,27['  ]| she added, 
244:229,27[I  ]| "why I wanted to$9$ come
244:229,28[I  ]| to$9$ see you.  You know Mr%*Osmond married my
244:229,29[I  ]| dearest friend."
244:229,30[J  ]| "Ah, yes; you were a friend of Isabel's.  I was
244:229,31[J  ]| trying to$9$ think what I knew about you."
244:229,32[I  ]| "I am quite willing to$9$ be known by$4$ that$6#2$," 
244:229,32['  ]| Henrietta
244:230,01['  ]| declared.  
244:230,01[I  ]| "But that$6#2$ is not what your brother
244:230,02[I  ]| likes to$9$ know me by$5$.  He has tried to$9$ break up$5$ my
244:230,03[I  ]| relations with Isabel."
244:230,04[J  ]| "Do not permit it," 
244:230,04['  ]| said the Countess.
244:230,05[I  ]| "That$6#2$ is what I want to$9$ talk about.  I am going to$4$
244:230,06[I  ]| Rome."
244:230,07[J  ]| "So$5#2$ am I!" 
244:230,07['  ]| the Countess cried.  
244:230,07[J  ]| "We will$1$ go together."
244:230,08[J  ]| 
244:230,09[I  ]| "With great pleasure.  And when I write about 
244:230,10[I  ]| my journey I will$1$ mention you by$4$ name as my companion."
244:230,11[I  ]| 
244:230,12['  ]| The Countess sprang from her chair and came and
244:230,13['  ]| sat on$4$ the sofa beside her visitor.  
244:230,13[J  ]| "Ah, you must
244:230,14[J  ]| send me the paper!  My husband will$1$ not like$1$ it, but
244:230,15[J  ]| he need never see it.  Besides, he does not know how
244:230,16[J  ]| to$9$ read."
244:230,17['  ]| Henrietta's large eyes became immense.  
244:230,17[I  ]| "Does not
244:230,18[I  ]| know how to$9$ read?  May I put that$6#2$ into my letter?"
244:230,19[J  ]| "Into your letter?"
244:230,20[I  ]| "In$4$ the \Interviewer\.  That$6#2$ is my paper."
244:230,21[J  ]| "Oh yes, if you like$1$; with his name.  Are you going
244:230,22[J  ]| to$9$ stay with Isabel?"
244:230,23['  ]| Henrietta held up$5$ her head, gazing a little in$4$ silence
244:230,24['  ]| at her hostess.  
244:230,24[I  ]| "She has not asked me.  I wrote to$4$
244:230,25[I  ]| her I was coming, and she answered that$3$ she would
244:230,26[I  ]| engage a room for$4$ me at a \9pension\.  She gave no$2$
244:230,27[I  ]| reason."
244:230,28['  ]| The Countess listened with extreme interest.
244:230,29[J  ]| "The reason is Osmond," 
244:230,29['  ]| she pregnantly remarked.
244:230,30[I  ]| "Isabel ought to$9$ make a stand," 
244:230,31['  ]| said Miss*Stackpole.
244:230,31[I  ]| "I am afraid she has changed a great deal.  I
244:230,32[I  ]| told her she would."
244:231,01[J  ]| "I am sorry to$9$ hear it; I hoped she would have her
244:231,02[J  ]| own way.  Why does not my brother like$1$ you?" 
244:231,02['  ]| the
244:231,03['  ]| Countess ingenuously added.
244:231,04[I  ]| "I do not know and I do not care.  He is perfectly
244:231,05[I  ]| welcome not to$9$ like$1$ me; I do not want every*one to$9$
244:231,06[I  ]| like$1$ me; I should think less of myself if some people
244:231,07[I  ]| did.  A journalist can not hope to$9$ do much good unless
244:231,08[I  ]| he gets a good deal hated; that$6#2$ is the way he knows
244:231,09[I  ]| how his work goes on$5$.  And it is just the same for$4$
244:231,10[I  ]| a lady.  But I did not expect it of Isabel."
244:231,11[J  ]| "Do you mean that$3$ she hates you?" 
244:231,11['  ]| the Countess
244:231,12['  ]| enquired.
244:231,13[I  ]| "I do not know; I want to$9$ see.  That$6#2$ is what I am 
244:231,14[I  ]| going to$4$ Rome for$4$."
244:231,15[J  ]| "Dear me, what a tiresome errand!" 
244:231,15['  ]| the Countess
244:231,16['  ]| exclaimed.
244:231,17[I  ]| "She does not write to$4$ me in$4$ the same way; it is
244:231,18[I  ]| easy to$9$ see there is a difference.  If you know anything,"
244:231,19['  ]| Miss*Stackpole went on$5$, 
244:231,19[I  ]| "I should like$1$ to$9$ 
244:231,20[I  ]| hear it beforehand, so$3$ as to$9$ decide on$4$ the line I shall
244:231,21[I  ]| take."
244:231,22['  ]| The Countess thrust out her under lip and gave
244:231,23['  ]| a gradual shrug.  
244:231,23[J  ]| "I know very little; I see and hear
244:231,24[J  ]| very little of Osmond.  He does not like$1$ me any
244:231,25[J  ]| better than he appears to$9$ like$1$ you."
244:231,26[I  ]| "Yet you are not a lady correspondent," 
244:231,26['  ]| said
244:231,27['  ]| Henrietta pensively.
244:231,28[J  ]| "Oh, he has plenty of reasons.  Nevertheless
244:231,29[J  ]| they have invited me ~~ I am to$9$ stay in$4$ the house!"
244:231,30['  ]| And the Countess smiled almost fiercely; her exultation, 
244:231,31['  ]| for$4$ the moment, took little account of Miss*Stackpole's
244:231,32['  ]| disappointment.
244:232,01['  ]| This lady, however, regarded it very placidly.  
244:232,01[I  ]| "I
244:232,02[I  ]| should not have gone if she \had\ asked me.  That$6#2$ is I 
244:232,03[I  ]| think I should not; and I am glad I had not to$9$ make
244:232,04[I  ]| up$5$ my mind.  It would have been a very difficult
244:232,05[I  ]| question.  I should not have liked to$9$ turn away from
244:232,06[I  ]| her, and yet I should not have been happy under her
244:232,07[I  ]| roof.  A \9pension\ will$1$ suit me very well.  But that$6#2$ is not
244:232,08[I  ]| all."
244:232,09[J  ]| "Rome is very good just now," 
244:232,09['  ]| said the Countess;
244:232,10[J  ]| "there are all sorts of brilliant people.  Did you ever
244:232,11[J  ]| hear of Lord*Warburton?"
244:232,12[I  ]| "Hear of him?  I know him very well.  Do you 
244:232,13[I  ]| consider him very brilliant?" 
244:232,13['  ]| Henrietta enquired.
244:232,14[J  ]| "I do not know him, but I am told he is extremely
244:232,15[J  ]| \9grand*seigneur\.  He is making love to$4$ Isabel."
244:232,16[I  ]| "Making love to$4$ her?"
244:232,17[J  ]| "So$5#2$ I am told; I do not know the details," 
244:232,17['  ]| said the 
244:232,18['  ]| Countess lightly.  
244:232,18[J  ]| "But Isabel is pretty safe."
244:232,19['  ]| Henrietta gazed earnestly at her companion; for$4$ 
244:232,20['  ]| a moment she said nothing.  
244:232,20[I  ]| "When do you go to$4$ 
244:232,21[I  ]| Rome?" 
244:232,21['  ]| she enquired abruptly.
244:232,22[J  ]| "Not for$4$ a week, I am afraid."
244:232,23[I  ]| "I shall go to-morrow," 
244:232,23['  ]| Henrietta said.  
244:232,23[I  ]| "I think
244:232,24[I  ]| I had better not wait."
244:232,25[J  ]| "Dear me, I am sorry; I am having some dresses
244:232,26[J  ]| made.  I am told Isabel receives immensely.  But I 
244:232,27[J  ]| shall see you there; I shall call on$4$ you at your \9pension\."
244:232,28['  ]| Henrietta sat still ~~ she was lost in$4$ thought;
244:232,29['  ]| and suddenly the Countess cried:
244:232,29[J  ]| "Ah, but if you
244:232,30[J  ]| do not go with me you can not describe our journey!"
244:232,31[J  ]| 
244:232,32['  ]| Miss*Stackpole seemed unmoved by$4$ this consideration;
244:233,01['  ]| she was thinking of something else and presently 
244:233,02['  ]| expressed it.  
244:233,02[I  ]| "I am not sure that$3$ I understand 
244:233,03[I  ]| you about Lord*Warburton."
244:233,04[J  ]| "Understand me?  I mean he is very nice, that$6#2$ is
244:233,05[J  ]| all."
244:233,06[I  ]| "Do you consider it nice to$9$ make love to$4$ married
244:233,07[I  ]| women?"  
244:233,07['  ]| Henrietta enquired with unprecedented
244:233,08['  ]| distinctness.
244:233,09['  ]| The Countess stared, and then with a little violent
244:233,10['  ]| laugh:
244:233,10[J  ]| "It is certain all the nice men do it.  Get
244:233,11[J  ]| married and you will$1$ see!" 
244:233,11['  ]| she added.
244:233,12[I  ]| "That$6#2$ idea would be enough to$9$ prevent me," 
244:233,12['  ]| said
244:233,13['  ]| Miss*Stackpole.  
244:233,13[I  ]| "I should want my own husband;
244:233,14[I  ]| I should not want any*one else's.  Do you mean that$3$ 
244:233,15[I  ]| Isabel is guilty ~~ guilty ~~ ?"  
244:233,15['  ]| And she paused a little,
244:233,16['  ]| choosing her expression.
244:233,17[J  ]| "Do I mean she is guilty?  Oh dear no$7$, not yet,
244:233,18[J  ]| I hope.  I only mean that$3$ Osmond is very tiresome
244:233,19[J  ]| and that$3$ Lord*Warburton, as I hear, is a great deal
244:233,20[J  ]| at the house.  I am afraid you are scandalised."
244:233,21[I  ]| "No$7$, I am just anxious," 
244:233,21['  ]| Henrietta said.
244:233,22[J  ]| "Ah, you are not very complimentary to$4$ Isabel!
244:233,23[J  ]| You should have more confidence.  I will$1$ tell you," 
244:233,23['  ]| the 
244:233,24['  ]| Countess added quickly:
244:233,24[J  ]| "if it will$1$ be a comfort to$4$
244:233,25[J  ]| you I engage to$9$ draw him off."
244:233,26['  ]| Miss*Stackpole answered at first only with the 
244:233,27['  ]| deeper solemnity of her gaze.  
244:233,27[I  ]| "You do not understand
244:233,28[I  ]| me," 
244:233,28['  ]| she said after a while.  
244:233,27[I  ]| "I have not the idea you
244:233,29[I  ]| seem to$9$ suppose.  I am not afraid for$4$ Isabel ~~ in$4$ that$6#2$
244:233,30[I  ]| way.  I am only afraid she is unhappy ~~ that$6#2$ is what 
244:233,31[I  ]| I want to$9$ get at."
244:233,32['  ]| The Countess gave a dozen turns of the head; she
244:234,01['  ]| looked impatient and sarcastic.  
244:234,01[J  ]| "That$6#2$ may very
244:234,02[J  ]| well be; for$4$ my part I should like$1$ to$9$ know whether
244:234,03[J  ]| Osmond is."  
244:234,03['  ]| Miss*Stackpole had begun a little to$9$
244:234,04['  ]| bore her.
244:234,05[I  ]| "If she is really changed that$6#2$ must be at the 
244:234,06[I  ]| bottom of it," 
244:234,06['  ]| Henrietta went on$5$.
244:234,07[J  ]| "You will$1$ see; she will$1$ tell you," 
244:234,07['  ]| said the Countess.
244:234,08[I  ]| "Ah, she may \not\ tell me ~~ that$6#2$ is what I am 
244:234,09[I  ]| afraid of!"
244:234,10[J  ]| "Well, if Osmond is not amusing himself ~~ in$4$ his
244:234,11[J  ]| own old way ~~ I flatter myself I shall discover it,"
244:234,12['  ]| the Countess rejoined.
244:234,13[I  ]| "I do not care for$4$ that$6#2$," 
244:234,13['  ]| said Henrietta.
244:234,14[J  ]| "I do immensely!  If Isabel is unhappy I am very
244:234,15[J  ]| sorry for$4$ her, but I can not help it.  I might tell her
244:234,16[J  ]| something that$6#1$ would make her worse, but I can not
244:234,17[J  ]| tell her anything that$6#1$ would console her.  What
244:234,18[J  ]| did she go and marry him for$4$?  If she had listened
244:234,19[J  ]| to$4$ me she would have got rid of him.  I will$1$ forgive her,
244:234,20[J  ]| however, if I find she has made things hot for$4$ him!
244:234,21[J  ]| If she has simply allowed him to$9$ trample upon$4$
244:234,22[J  ]| her I do not know that$3$ I shall even pity her.  But
244:234,23[J  ]| I do not think that$6#2$ is very likely.  I count upon$4$ finding
244:234,24[J  ]| that$3$ if she is miserable she has at least made
244:234,25[J  ]| \him\ so$5#2$."
244:234,26['  ]| Henrietta got up$5$; these seemed to$4$ her, naturally,
244:234,27['  ]| very dreadful expectations.  She honestly believed
244:234,28@i   | she had no$2$ desire to$9$ see Mr%*Osmond unhappy; and 
244:234,29@i   | indeed he could not be for$4$ her the subject of a flight
244:234,30@i   | of fancy.  
244:234,30['  ]| She was on$4$ the whole rather disappointed
244:234,31['  ]| in$4$ the Countess, whose mind moved in$4$ a narrower
244:234,32['  ]| circle than she had imagined, though with a capacity
244:235,01['  ]| for$4$ coarseness even there.  
244:235,01[I  ]| "It will$1$ be better if they
244:235,02[I  ]| love each other," 
244:235,02['  ]| she said for$4$ edification.
244:235,03[J  ]| "They can not.  He can not love any*one."
244:235,04[I  ]| "I presumed that$6#2$ was the case.  But it only aggravates
244:235,05[I  ]| my fear for$4$ Isabel.  I shall positively start
244:235,06[I  ]| to-morrow."
244:235,07[J  ]| "Isabel certainly has devotees," 
244:235,07['  ]| said the Countess,
244:235,08['  ]| smiling very vividly.  
244:235,08[J  ]| "I declare I do not pity her."
244:235,09[I  ]| "It may be I can not assist her," 
244:235,09['  ]| Miss*Stackpole
244:235,10['  ]| pursued, as if it were well not to$9$ have illusions.
244:235,11[J  ]| "You can have wanted to$9$, at any rate; that$6#2$ is
244:235,12[J  ]| something.  I believe that$6#2$ is what you came from
244:235,13[J  ]| America for$4$," 
244:235,13['  ]| the Countess suddenly added.
244:235,14[I  ]| "Yes, I wanted to$9$ look after her," 
244:235,14['  ]| Henrietta said
244:235,15['  ]| serenly.
244:235,16['  ]| Her hostess stood there smiling at her with small
244:235,17['  ]| bright eyes and an eager-looking nose; with cheeks
244:235,18['  ]| into each of which$6#1$ a flush had come.  
244:235,18[J  ]| "Ah, that$6#2$ is
244:235,19[J  ]| very pretty ~~ \9c'est 9bien 9gentil!\  Is not it what they
244:235,20[J  ]| call friendship?"
244:235,21[I  ]| "I do not know what they call it.  I thought I had
244:235,22[I  ]| better come."
244:235,23[J  ]| "She is very happy ~~ she is very fortunate," 
244:235,23['  ]| the
244:235,24['  ]| Countess went on$5$.  
244:235,24[J  ]| "She has others besides."  
244:235,24['  ]| And
244:235,25['  ]| then she broke out passionately.  
244:235,25[J  ]| "She is more fortunate
244:235,26[J  ]| than I!  I am as unhappy as she ~~ I have a very
244:235,27[J  ]| bad husband; he is a great deal worse than Osmond.
244:235,28[J  ]| And I have no$2$ friends.  I thought I had, but 
244:235,29[J  ]| they are gone.  No*one, man or woman, would do for$4$
244:235,30[J  ]| me what you have done for$4$ her."
244:235,31['  ]| Henrietta was touched; 
244:235,31@i   | there was nature in$4$ this
244:235,32@i   | bitter effusion.  
244:235,32['  ]| She gazed at her companion a moment,
244:236,01['  ]| and then:
244:236,01[I  ]| "Look here, Countess, I will$1$ do anything
244:236,02[I  ]| for$4$ you that$6#1$ you like$1$.  I will$1$ wait over and travel
244:236,03[I  ]| with you."
244:236,04[J  ]| "Never mind," 
244:236,04['  ]| the Countess answered with a 
244:236,05['  ]| quick change of tone:
244:236,05[J  ]| "only describe me in$4$ the newspaper!"
244:236,06[J  ]| 
244:236,07['  ]| Henrietta, before leaving her, however, was obliged
244:236,08['  ]| to$9$ make her understand that$3$ she could give no$2$ fictitious
244:236,09['  ]| representation of her journey to$4$ Rome.  Miss*Stackpole
244:236,10['  ]| was a strictly veracious reporter.  On$4$
244:236,11['  ]| quitting her she took the way to$4$ the Lung'*Arno,
244:236,12['  ]| the sunny quay beside the yellow river where the 
244:236,13['  ]| bright-faced inns familiar to$4$ tourists stand all in$4$ a 
244:236,14['  ]| row.  She had learned her way before this through
244:236,15['  ]| the streets of Florence (she was very quick in$4$ such
244:236,16['  ]| matters), and was therefore able to$9$ turn with great
244:236,17['  ]| decision of step out of the little square which$6#1$ forms
244:236,18['  ]| the approach to$4$ the bridge of the Holy*Trinity.  She
244:236,19['  ]| proceeded to$4$ the left, toward the Ponte*Vecchio, and
244:236,20['  ]| stopped in$4$ front of one of the hotels which$6#1$ overlook 
244:236,21['  ]| that$6#2$ delightful structure.  Here she drew forth a 
244:236,22['  ]| small pocket-book, took from it a card and a pencil
244:236,23['  ]| and, after meditating a moment, wrote a few words.
244:236,24['  ]| It is our privilege to$9$ look over her shoulder, and if
244:236,25['  ]| we exercise it we may read the brief query:
244:236,25[I  ]| "Could
244:236,26[I  ]| I see you this evening for$4$ a few moments on$4$ a very 
244:236,27[I  ]| important matter?"  
244:236,27['  ]| Henrietta added that$3$ 
244:236,27@i   | she should
244:236,28@i   | start on$4$ the morrow for$4$ Rome.  
244:236,28['  ]| Armed with this
244:236,29['  ]| little document she approached the porter, who$6#1$ now
244:236,30['  ]| had taken up$5$ his station in$4$ the doorway, and asked
244:236,31@i   | if Mr%*Goodwood were at home.  
244:236,31['  ]| The porter replied,
244:236,32['  ]| as porters always reply, that$3$ 
244:236,32@w   | he had gone out about
244:237,01@w   | twenty minutes before; 
244:237,01['  ]| whereupon Henrietta presented
244:237,02['  ]| her card and begged it might be handed him
244:237,03['  ]| on$4$ his return.  She left the inn and pursued her course
244:237,04['  ]| along the quay to$4$ the severe portico of the Uffizi,
244:237,05['  ]| through which$6#1$ she presently reached the entrance
244:237,06['  ]| of the famous gallery of paintings.  Making her way
244:237,07['  ]| in$5$, she ascended the high staircase which$6#1$ leads to$4$ the 
244:237,08['  ]| upper chambers.  The long corridor, glazed on$4$ one
244:237,09['  ]| side and decorated with antique busts, which$6#1$ gives
244:237,10['  ]| admission to$4$ these apartments, presented an empty
244:237,11['  ]| vista in$4$ which$6#1$ the bright winter light twinkled upon$4$
244:237,12['  ]| the marble floor.  The gallery is very cold and during
244:237,13['  ]| the midwinter weeks but scantily visited.  Miss*Stackpole
244:237,14['  ]| may appear more ardent in$4$ her quest of artistic
244:237,15['  ]| beauty than she has hitherto struck us as being, but
244:237,16['  ]| she had after all her preferences and admirations.
244:237,17['  ]| One of the latter was the little Correggio of the
244:237,18['  ]| Tribune ~~ the Virgin kneeling down before the
244:237,19['  ]| sacred infant, who$6#1$ lies in$4$ a litter of straw, and clapping
244:237,20['  ]| her hands to$4$ him while he delightedly laughs
244:237,21['  ]| and crows.  Henrietta had a special devotion to$4$ this
244:237,22['  ]| intimate scene ~~ she thought it the most beautiful
244:237,23['  ]| picture in$4$ the world.  On$4$ her way, at present, from
244:237,24['  ]| New*York to$4$ Rome, she was spending but three days
244:237,25['  ]| in$4$ Florence, and yet reminded herself that$3$ they
244:237,26['  ]| must not elapse without her paying another visit to$4$
244:237,27['  ]| her favourite work of art.  She had a great sense of
244:237,28['  ]| beauty in$4$ all ways, and it involved a good many intellectual
244:237,29['  ]| obligations.  She was about to$9$ turn into the
244:237,30['  ]| Tribune when a gentleman came out of it; whereupon
244:237,31['  ]| she gave a little exclamation and stood before
244:237,32['  ]| Caspar*Goodwood.
244:238,01[I  ]| "I have just been at your hotel," 
244:238,01['  ]| she said.  
244:238,01[I  ]| "I left
244:238,02[I  ]| a card for$4$ you."
244:238,03[E  ]| "I am very much honoured," 
244:238,03['  ]| Caspar*Goodwood
244:238,04['  ]| answered as if he really meant it.
244:238,05[I  ]| "It was not to$9$ honour you I did it; I have called on$4$
244:238,06[I  ]| you before and I know you do not like$1$ it.  It was to$9$
244:238,07[I  ]| talk to$4$ you a little about something."
244:238,08['  ]| He looked for$4$ a moment at the buckle in$4$ her 
244:238,09['  ]| hat.  
244:238,09[E  ]| "I shall be very glad to$9$ hear what you wish
244:238,10[E  ]| to$9$ say."
244:238,11[I  ]| "You do not like$1$ to$9$ talk with me," 
244:238,11['  ]| said Henrietta.
244:238,12[I  ]| "But I do not care for$4$ that$6#2$; I do not talk for$4$ your
244:238,13[I  ]| amusement. I wrote a word to$9$ ask you to$9$ come and
244:238,14[I  ]| see me; but since I have met you here this will$1$ do
244:238,15[I  ]| as well."
244:238,16[E  ]| "I was just going away," 
244:238,16['  ]| Goodwood stated; 
244:238,16[E  ]| "but
244:238,17[E  ]| of course I will$1$ stop."  
244:238,17['  ]| He was civil, but not enthusiastic.
244:238,18['  ]| Henrietta, however, never looked for$4$ great professions,
244:238,19['  ]| and she was so$5#1$ much in$4$ earnest that$3$ she was
244:238,20['  ]| thankful he would listen to$4$ her on$4$ any terms.  She
244:238,21['  ]| asked him first, none the less, if he had seen all the 
244:238,22['  ]| pictures.
244:238,23[E  ]| "All I want to$9$.  I have been here an hour."
244:238,24[I  ]| "I wonder if you have seen my Correggio," 
244:238,24['  ]| said
244:238,25['  ]| Henrietta.  
244:238,25[I  ]| "I came up$5$ on$4$ purpose to$9$ have a look at
244:238,26[I  ]| it."  
244:238,26['  ]| She went into the Tribune and he slowly accompanied
244:238,27['  ]| her.
244:238,28[E  ]| "I suppose I have seen it, but I did not know it was
244:238,29[E  ]| yours.  I do not remember pictures ~~ especially that$6#2$ 
244:238,30[E  ]| sort."  
244:238,30['  ]| She had pointed out her favourite work, and
244:238,31['  ]| he asked her if it was about Correggio she wished to$9$
244:238,32['  ]| talk with him.
244:239,01[I  ]| "No$7$," 
244:239,01['  ]| said Henrietta, 
244:239,01[I  ]| "it is about something less
244:239,02[I  ]| harmonious!"  
244:239,02['  ]| They had the small, brilliant room,
244:239,03['  ]| a splendid cabinet of treasures, to$4$ themselves; there
244:239,04['  ]| was only a 8custode hovering about the Medicean*Venus.
244:239,05[I  ]| "I want you to$9$ do me a favour," 
244:239,05['  ]| Miss*Stackpole
244:239,06['  ]| went on$5$.
244:239,07['  ]| Caspar*Goodwood frowned a little, but he expressed
244:239,08['  ]| no$2$ embarrassment at the sense of not looking eager.
244:239,09['  ]| His face was that$6#2$ of a much older man than our earlier
244:239,10['  ]| friend.  
244:239,10[E  ]| "I am sure it is something I shall not like$1$," 
244:239,10['  ]| he
244:239,11['  ]| said rather loudly.
244:239,12[I  ]| "No$7$, I do not think you will$1$ like$1$ it.  If you did it would
244:239,13[I  ]| be no$2$ favour."
244:239,14[E  ]| "Well, let us hear it," 
244:239,14['  ]| he went on$5$ in$4$ the tone of a 
244:239,15['  ]| man quite conscious of his patience.
244:239,16[I  ]| "You may say there is no$2$ particular reason why you
244:239,17[I  ]| should do me a favour.  Indeed I only know of one:
244:239,18[I  ]| the fact that$3$ if you would let me I would gladly do \you\ one."
244:239,19['  ]| Her soft, exact tone, in$4$ which$6#1$ there was no$2$ attempt
244:239,20['  ]| at effect, had an extreme sincerity; and her companion,
244:239,21['  ]| though he presented rather a hard surface,
244:239,22['  ]| could not help being touched by$4$ it.  When he was
244:239,23['  ]| touched he rarely showed it, however, by$4$ the usual
244:239,24['  ]| signs; he neither blushed, nor looked away, nor looked
244:239,25['  ]| conscious.  He only fixed his attention more directly;
244:239,26['  ]| he seemed to$9$ consider with added firmness.  Henrietta
244:239,27['  ]| continued therefore disinterestedly, without the
244:239,28['  ]| sense of an advantage.  
244:239,28[I  ]| "I may say now, indeed ~~ it
244:239,29[I  ]| seems a good time ~~ that$3$ if I have ever annoyed you
244:239,30[I  ]| (and I think sometimes I have) it is because I knew
244:239,31[I  ]| I was willing to$9$ suffer annoyance for$4$ you.  I have troubled
244:239,32[I  ]| you ~~ doubtless.  But I would \take\ trouble for$4$ you."
244:240,01['  ]| Goodwood hesitated.  
244:240,01[E  ]| "You are taking trouble
244:240,02[E  ]| now."
244:240,03[I  ]| "Yes, I am ~~ some.  I want you to$9$ consider
244:240,04[I  ]| whether it is better on$4$ the whole that$3$ you should go
244:240,05[I  ]| to$4$ Rome."
244:240,06[E  ]| "I thought you were going to$9$ say that$6#2$!" 
244:240,06['  ]| he answered
244:240,07['  ]| rather artlessly.
244:240,08[I  ]| "You \have\ considered it then?"
244:240,09[E  ]| "Of course I have, very carefully.  I have looked all
244:240,10[E  ]| round it.  Otherwise I should not have come so$5#1$ far as
244:240,11[E  ]| this.  That$6#2$ is what I stayed in$4$ Paris two months for$4$.
244:240,12[E  ]| I was thinking it over."
244:240,13[I  ]| "I am afraid you decided as you liked.  You decided
244:240,14[I  ]| it was best because you were so$5#1$ much attracted."
244:240,15[I  ]|
244:240,16[E  ]| "Best for$4$ whom, do you mean?"  
244:240,16['  ]| Goodwood demanded.
244:240,17['  ]| 
244:240,18[I  ]| "Well, for$4$ yourself first.  For$4$ Mrs%*Osmond
244:240,19[I  ]| next."
244:240,20[E  ]| "Oh, it will$1$ not do \her\ any good! I do not flatter myself
244:240,21[E  ]| that$6#2$."
244:240,22[I  ]| "Will$1$ not it do her some harm? ~~ that$6#2$ is the question."
244:240,23[I  ]| 
244:240,24[E  ]| "I do not see what it will$1$ matter to$4$ her.  I am nothing
244:240,25[E  ]| to$4$ Mrs%*Osmond.  But if you want to$9$ know,
244:240,26[E  ]| I do want to$9$ see her myself."
244:240,27[I  ]| "Yes, and that$6#2$ is why you go."
244:240,28[E  ]| "Of course it is.  Could there be a better reason?"
244:240,29[I  ]| "How will$1$ it help you?  ~~ that$6#2$ is what I want to$9$
244:240,30[I  ]| know," 
244:240,30['  ]| said Miss*Stackpole.
244:240,31[E  ]| "That$6#2$ is just what I can not tell you.  It is just what
244:240,32[E  ]| I was thinking about in$4$ Paris."
244:241,01[I  ]| "It will$1$ make you more discontented."
244:241,02[E  ]| "Why do you say ""more"" so$5#2$?" 
244:241,02['  ]| Goodwood asked
244:241,03['  ]| rather sternly.  
244:241,03[E  ]| "How do you know I am discontented?"
244:241,04[E  ]| 
244:241,05[I  ]| "Well," 
244:241,05['  ]| said Henrietta, hesitating a little, 
244:241,05[I  ]| "you
244:241,06[I  ]| seem never to$9$ have cared for$4$ another."
244:241,07[E  ]| "How do you know what I care for$4$?" 
244:241,07['  ]| he cried
244:241,08['  ]| with a big blush.  
244:241,08[E  ]| "Just now I care to$9$ go to$4$ Rome."
244:241,09['  ]| Henrietta looked at him in$4$ silence, with a sad yet
244:241,10['  ]| luminous expression.  
244:241,10[I  ]| "Well," 
244:241,10['  ]| she observed at last,
244:241,11[I  ]| "I only wanted to$9$ tell you what I think; I had it on$4$
244:241,12[I  ]| my mind.  Of course you think it is none of my business.
244:241,13[I  ]| But nothing is any*one's business, on$4$ that$6#2$ principle."
244:241,14[I  ]| 
244:241,15[E  ]| "It is very kind of you; I am greatly obliged to$4$ you
244:241,16[E  ]| for$4$ your interest," 
244:241,16['  ]| said Caspar*Goodwood.  
244:241,16[E  ]| "I shall
244:241,17[E  ]| go to$4$ Rome and I shall not hurt Mrs%*Osmond."
244:241,18[I  ]| "You will$1$ not hurt her, perhaps.  But will$1$ you help
244:241,19[I  ]| her?  ~~ that$6#2$ is the real issue."
244:241,20[E  ]| "Is she in$4$ need of help?" 
244:241,20['  ]| he asked slowly, with
244:241,21['  ]| a penetrating look.
244:241,22[I  ]| "Most women always are," 
244:241,22['  ]| said Henrietta, with
244:241,23['  ]| conscientious evasiveness and generalising less hopefully
244:241,24['  ]| than usual.  
244:241,24[I  ]| "If you go to$4$ Rome," 
244:241,24['  ]| she added,
244:241,25[I  ]| "I hope you will$1$ be a true friend ~~ not a selfish
244:241,26[I  ]| one!" 
244:241,26['  ]| And she turned off and began to$9$ look at the 
244:241,27['  ]| pictures.
244:241,28['  ]| Caspar*Goodwood let her go and stood watching
244:241,29['  ]| her while she wandered round the room; but after a
244:241,30['  ]| moment he rejoined her.  
244:241,30[E  ]| "You have heard something
244:241,31[E  ]| about her here," 
244:241,31['  ]| he then resumed.  
244:241,31[E  ]| "I should like$1$
244:241,32[E  ]| to$9$ know what you have heard."
244:242,01['  ]| Henrietta had never prevaricated in$4$ her life, and,
244:242,02['  ]| though on$4$ this occasion there might have been a fitness
244:242,03['  ]| in$4$ doing so$5#2$, she decided, after thinking some
244:242,04['  ]| minutes, to$9$ make no$2$ superficial exception.  
244:242,04[I  ]| "Yes,
244:242,05[I  ]| I have heard," 
244:242,05['  ]| she answered; 
244:242,05[I  ]| "but as I do not want 
244:242,06[I  ]| you to$9$ go to$4$ Rome I will$1$ not tell you."
244:242,07[E  ]| "Just as you please.  I shall see for$4$ myself," 
244:242,07['  ]| he 
244:242,08['  ]| said.  Then inconsistently, for$4$ him, 
244:242,08[E  ]| "You have heard
244:242,09[E  ]| she is unhappy!"  
244:242,09['  ]| he added.
244:242,10[I  ]| "Oh, you will$1$ not see that$6#2$!" 
244:242,10['  ]| Henrietta exclaimed.
244:242,11[E  ]| "I hope not.  When do you start?"
244:242,12[I  ]| "To-morrow, by$4$ the evening train.  And you?"
244:242,13['  ]| Goodwood hung back; he had no$2$ desire to$9$ make
244:242,14['  ]| his journey to$4$ Rome in$4$ Miss*Stackpole's company.
244:242,15['  ]| His indifference to$4$ this advantage was not of the same
244:242,16['  ]| character as Gilbert*Osmond's, but it had at this moment
244:242,17['  ]| an equal distinctness.  It was rather a tribute
244:242,18['  ]| to$4$ Miss*Stackpole's virtues than a reference to$4$ her
244:242,19['  ]| faults.  He thought her very remarkable, very brilliant,
244:242,20['  ]| and he had, in$4$ theory, no$2$ objection to$4$ the class
244:242,21['  ]| to$4$ which$6#1$ she belonged.  Lady correspondents appeared 
244:242,22['  ]| to$4$ him a part of the natural scheme of things
244:242,23['  ]| in$4$ a progressive country, and though he never read
244:242,24['  ]| their letters he supposed that$3$ they ministered somehow
244:242,25['  ]| to$4$ social prosperity.  But it was this very eminence
244:242,26['  ]| of their position that$6#1$ made him wish 
244:242,26@e   | Miss*Stackpole
244:242,27@e   | did not take so$5#1$ much for$4$ granted.  She
244:242,28@e   | took for$4$ granted that$3$ he was always ready for$4$ some
244:242,29@e   | allusion to$4$ Mrs%*Osmond; she had done so$5#2$ when
244:242,30@e   | they met in$4$ Paris, six weeks after his arrival in$4$ Europe,
244:242,31@e   | and she had repeated the assumption with every
244:242,32@e   | successive opportunity.  He had no$2$ wish whatever
244:243,01@e   | to$9$ allude to$4$ Mrs%*Osmond; he was \not\ always thinking
244:243,02@e   | of her; he was perfectly sure of that$6#2$.  
244:243,02['  ]| He was the 
244:243,03['  ]| most reserved, the least colloquial of men, and this
244:243,04['  ]| enquiring authoress was constantly flashing her lantern
244:243,05['  ]| into the quiet darkness of his soul.  He wished
244:243,06@e   | she did not care so$5#1$ much; 
244:243,05['  ]| he even wished, though it
244:243,07['  ]| might seem rather brutal of him, that$3$ 
244:243,07@e   | she would
244:243,08@e   | leave him alone.  
244:243,08['  ]| In$4$ spite of this, however, he just
244:243,09['  ]| now made other reflections ~~ which$6#1$ show how
244:243,10['  ]| widely different, in$4$ effect, his ill-humour was from
244:243,11['  ]| Gilbert*Osmond's.  
244:243,11@e   | He desired to$9$ go immediately
244:243,12@e   | to$4$ Rome; he would have liked to$9$ go alone, in$4$ the 
244:243,13@e   | night-train.  He hated the European railway-carriages,
244:243,14@e   | in$4$ which$6#1$ one sat for$4$ hours in$4$ a vise, knee to$4$ 
244:243,15@e   | knee and nose to$4$ nose with a foreigner to$4$ whom one
244:243,16@e   | presently found one's self objecting with all the added
244:243,17@e   | vehemence of one's wish to$9$ have the window open;
244:243,18@e   | and if they were worse at night even than by$4$ day, at
244:243,19@e   | least at night one could sleep and dream of an American
244:243,20@e   | saloon-car.  But he could not take a night-train
244:243,21@e   | when Miss*Stackpole was starting in$4$ the morning; it
244:243,22@e   | struck him that$3$ this would be an insult to$4$ an unprotected
244:243,23@e   | woman.  Nor could he wait until after she had
244:243,24@e   | gone unless he should wait longer than he had patience
244:243,25@e   | for$5$.  It would not do to$9$ start the next day.  She
244:243,26@e   | worried him; she oppressed him; the idea of spending
244:243,27@e   | the day in$4$ a European railway-carriage with her
244:243,28@e   | offered a complication of irritations.  Still, she was a
244:243,29@e   | lady travelling alone; it was his duty to$9$ put himself
244:243,30@e   | out for$4$ her.  There could be no$2$ two questions about
244:243,31@e   | that$6#2$; it was a perfectly clear necessity.  
244:243,31['  ]| He looked
244:243,32['  ]| extremely grave for$4$ some moments and then said,
244:244,01['  ]| wholly without the flourish of gallantry but in$4$ a tone
244:244,02['  ]| of extreme distinctness, 
244:244,02[E  ]| "Of course if you are going
244:244,03[E  ]| to-morrow I will$1$ go too, as I may be of assistance to$4$
244:244,04[E  ]| you."
244:244,05[I  ]| "Well, Mr%*Goodwood, I should hope so$5#2$!" 
244:244,05['  ]| Henrietta
244:244,06['  ]| returned imperturbably.
245:245,01['  ]| I have already had reason to$9$ say that$3$ Isabel knew
245:245,02['  ]| her husband to$9$ be displeased by$4$ the continuance of 
245:245,03['  ]| Ralph's visit to$4$ Rome.  That$6#2$ knowledge was very
245:245,04['  ]| present to$4$ her as she went to$4$ her cousin's hotel the day
245:245,05['  ]| after she had invited Lord*Warburton to$9$ give a tangible
245:245,06['  ]| proof of his sincerity; and at this moment, as at 
245:245,07['  ]| others, she had a sufficient perception of the sources
245:245,08['  ]| of Osmond's opposition.  He wished her to$9$ have no$2$
245:245,09['  ]| freedom of mind, and he knew perfectly well that$3$
245:245,10['  ]| Ralph was an apostle of freedom.  
245:245,10@a   | It was just because
245:245,11@a   | he was this, 
245:245,11['  ]| Isabel said to$4$ herself, that$3$ 
245:245,11@a   | it was a refreshment
245:245,12@a   | to$9$ go and see him.  
245:245,12['  ]| It will$1$ be perceived
245:245,13['  ]| that$3$ she partook of this refeshment in$4$ spite of her
245:245,14['  ]| husband's aversion to$4$ it, that$6#2$ is partook of it, as she
245:245,15['  ]| flattered herself, discreetly.  She had not as yet undertaken
245:245,16['  ]| to$9$ act in$4$ direct opposition to$4$ his wishes; he
245:245,17['  ]| was her appointed and inscribed master; she gazed
245:245,18['  ]| at moments with a sort of incredulous blankness at
245:245,19['  ]| this fact.  It weighed upon$4$ her imagination, however;
245:245,20['  ]| constantly present to$4$ her mind were all the traditionary
245:245,21['  ]| decencies and sanctities of marriage.  The 
245:245,22['  ]| idea of violating them filled her with shame as well
245:245,23['  ]| as with dread, for$3$ on$4$ giving herself away she had lost
245:245,24['  ]| sight of this contingency in$4$ the perfect belief that$3$ her
245:245,25['  ]| husband's intentions were as generous as her own.
245:245,26['  ]| She seemed to$9$ see, none the less, the rapid approach
245:246,01['  ]| of the day when she should have to$9$ take back something
245:246,02['  ]| she had solemnly bestown.  
245:246,02@a   | Such a ceremony
245:246,03@a   | would be odious and monstrous; she tried to$9$ shut
245:246,04@a   | her eyes to$4$ it meanwhile.  Osmond would do nothing
245:246,05@a   | to$9$ help it by$4$ beginning first; he would put that$6#2$ burden
245:246,06@a   | upon$4$ her to$4$ the end.  He had not yet formally
245:246,07@a   | forbidden her to$9$ call upon$4$ Ralph; but she felt sure
245:246,08@a   | that$3$ unless Ralph should very soon depart this prohibition
245:246,09@a   | would come.  How could poor Ralph depart?
245:246,10@a   | The weather as yet made it impossible.  She
245:246,11@a   | could perfectly understand her husband's wish for$4$
245:246,12@a   | the event; she did not, to$9$ be just, see how he \could\
245:246,13@a   | like$1$ her to$9$ be with her cousin.  Ralph never said a 
245:246,14@a   | word against him, but Osmond's sore, mute protest
245:246,15@a   | was none the less founded.  If he should positively
245:246,16@a   | interpose, if he should put forth his authority, she
245:246,17@a   | would have to$9$ decide, and that$6#2$ would not be easy.
245:246,18['  ]| The prospect made her heart beat and her cheeks
245:246,19['  ]| burn, as I say, in$4$ advance; there were moments
245:246,20['  ]| when, in$4$ her wish to$9$ avoid an open rupture, she
245:246,21['  ]| found herself wishing Ralph would start even at a 
245:246,22['  ]| risk.  And it was of no$2$ use that$3$, when catching herself
245:246,23['  ]| in$4$ this state of mind, she called herself a feeble spirit,
245:246,24['  ]| a coward.  It was not that$3$ she loved Ralph less, but
245:246,25['  ]| that$3$ almost anything seemed preferable to$4$ repudiating
245:246,26['  ]| the most serious act ~~ the single sacred act-
245:246,27['  ]| of her life.  
245:246,27@a   | That$6#2$ appeared to$9$ make the whole future
245:246,28@a   | hideous.  To$9$ break with Osmond once would be to$9$
245:246,29@a   | break for*ever; any open acknowledgement of irreconciliable
245:246,30@a   | needs would be an admission that$3$ their whole
245:246,31@a   | attempt had proved a failure.  For$4$ them there could
245:246,32@a   | be no$2$ condonement, no$2$ compromise, no$2$ easy forgetfulness,
245:247,01@a   | no$2$ formal readjustment.  They had attempted
245:247,02@a   | only one thing, but that$6#2$ one thing was to$9$ have been
245:247,03@a   | exquisite.  Once they missed it nothing else would do;
245:247,04@a   | there was no$2$ conceivable substitute for$4$ that$6#2$ success.
245:247,05['  ]| For$4$ the moment, Isabel went to$4$ the Ho^tel de Paris as
245:247,06['  ]| often as she thought well; the measure of propriety
245:247,07['  ]| was in$4$ the canon of taste, and there could not have
245:247,08['  ]| been a better proof that$3$ morality was, so$5#2$ to$9$ speak,
245:247,09['  ]| a matter of earnest appreciation.  Isabel's application
245:247,10['  ]| of that$6#2$ measure had been particularly free to-day, for$3$
245:247,11['  ]| in$4$ addition to$4$ the general truth that$3$ she could not
245:247,12['  ]| leave Ralph to$9$ die alone she had something important
245:247,13['  ]| to$9$ ask of him.  This indeed was Gilbert's business as
245:247,14['  ]| well as her own.
245:247,15['  ]| She came very soon to$4$ what she wished to$9$ speak of.
245:247,16[A  ]| "I want you to$9$ answer me a question.  It is about
245:247,17[A  ]| Lord*Warburton."
245:247,18[B  ]| "I think I guess your question," 
245:247,18['  ]| Ralph answered
245:247,19['  ]| from his arm-chair, out of which$6#1$ his thin legs protruded
245:247,20['  ]| at greater length than ever.
245:247,21[A  ]| "Very possibly you guess it.  Please then answer
245:247,22[A  ]| it."
245:247,23[B  ]| "Oh, I do not say I can do that$6#2$."
245:247,24[A  ]| "You are intimate with him,"
245:247,24['  ]| she said; 
245:247,24[A  ]| "you have
245:247,25[A  ]| a great deal of observation of him."
245:247,26[B  ]| "Very true.  But think how he must dissimulate!"
245:247,27[B  ]|
245:247,28[A  ]| "Why should he dissimulate?  That$6#2$ is not his
245:247,29[A  ]| nature."
245:247,30[B  ]| "Ah, you must remember that$3$ the circumstances
245:247,31[B  ]| are peculiar,"
245:247,31['  ]| said Ralph with an air of private amusement.
245:247,32['  ]|
245:248,01[A  ]| "To$4$ a certain extent ~~ yes.  But is he really in$4$
245:248,02[A  ]| love?"
245:248,03[B  ]| "Very much, I think.  I can make that$6#2$ out."
245:248,04[A  ]| "Ah!" 
245:248,04['  ]| said Isabel with a certain dryness.
245:248,05['  ]| Ralph looked at her as if his mild hilarity had been
245:248,06['  ]| touched with mystification.  
245:248,06[B  ]| "You say that$6#2$ as if you
245:248,07[B  ]| were disappointed."
245:248,08['  ]| Isabel got up$5$, slowly smoothing her gloves and eyeing
245:248,09['  ]| them thoughtfully.  
245:248,09[A  ]| "It is after all no$2$ business of
245:248,10[A  ]| mine."
245:248,11[B  ]| "You are very philosophic," 
245:248,11['  ]| said her cousin.  And
245:248,12['  ]| then in$4$ a moment:
245:248,12[B  ]| "May I enquire what you are talking
245:248,13[B  ]| about?"
245:248,14['  ]| Isabel stared.  
245:248,14[A  ]| "I thought you knew.  Lord*Warburton
245:248,15[A  ]| tells me he wants, of all things in$4$ the world,
245:248,16[A  ]| to$9$ marry Pansy.  I have told you that$6#2$ before, without
245:248,17[A  ]| eliciting a comment from you.  You might risk one
245:248,18[A  ]| this morning, I think.  Is it your belief that$3$ he really
245:248,19[A  ]| cares for$4$ her?"
245:248,20[B  ]| "Ah, for$4$ Pansy, no$7$!"  
245:248,20['  ]| cried Ralph very positively.
245:248,21['  ]| 
245:248,22[A  ]| "But you said just now he did."
245:248,23['  ]| Ralph waited a moment.  
245:248,23[B  ]| "That$3$ he cared for$4$ you,
245:248,24[B  ]| Mrs%*Osmond."
245:248,25['  ]| Isabel shook her head gravely.  
245:248,25[A  ]| "That$6#2$ is nonsense,
245:248,26[A  ]| you know."
245:248,27[B  ]| "Of course it is.  But the nonsense is Warburton's,
245:248,28[B  ]| not mine."
245:248,29[A  ]| "That$6#2$ would be very tiresome."  
245:248,29['  ]| She spoke, as she
245:248,30['  ]| flattered herself, with much subtlety.
245:248,31[B  ]| "I ought to$9$ tell you indeed," 
245:248,31['  ]| Ralph went on$5$, 
245:248,31[B  ]| "that$3$
245:248,32[B  ]| to$4$ me he has denied it."
245:249,01[A  ]| "It is very good of you to$9$ talk about it together!
245:249,02[A  ]| Has he also told you that$3$ he is in$4$ love with
245:249,03[A  ]| Pansy?"
245:249,04[B  ]| "He has spoken very well of her ~~ very properly.
245:249,05[B  ]| He has let me know, of course, that$3$ he thinks she
245:249,06[B  ]| would do very well at Lockleigh."
245:249,07[A  ]| "Does he really think it?"
245:249,08[B  ]| "Ah, what Warburton really thinks ~~ !" 
245:249,08['  ]| said
245:249,09['  ]| Ralph.
245:249,10['  ]| Isabel fell smoothing her gloves again; they were
245:249,11['  ]| long, loose gloves on$4$ which$6#1$ she could freely expend
245:249,12['  ]| herself.  Soon, however, she looked up$5$, and then, 
245:249,12[A  ]| "Ah,
245:249,13[A  ]| Ralph, you give me no$2$ help!" 
245:249,13['  ]| she cried abruptly and
245:249,14['  ]| passionately.
245:249,15['  ]| It was the first time she had alluded to$4$ the need
245:249,16['  ]| for$4$ help, and the words shook her cousin with their
245:249,17['  ]| violence.  He gave a long murmur of relief, of pity,
245:249,18['  ]| of tenderness; it seemed to$4$ him that$3$ at last the gulf
245:249,19['  ]| between them had been bridged.  It was this that$6#1$
245:249,20['  ]| made him exclaim in$4$ a moment:
245:249,20[B  ]| "How unhappy you 
245:249,21[B  ]| must be!"
245:249,22['  ]| He had no$2$ sooner spoken than she recovered her
245:249,23['  ]| self-possession, and the first use she made of it was
245:249,24['  ]| to$9$ pretend she had not heard him.  
245:249,24[A  ]| "When I talk of
245:249,25[A  ]| your helping me I talk great nonsense," 
245:249,25['  ]| she said
245:249,26['  ]| with a quick smile.  
245:249,26[A  ]| "The idea of my troubling you
245:249,27[A  ]| with my domestic embarrassments!  The matter is
245:249,28[A  ]| very simple; Lord*Warburton must get on$5$ by$4$ himself.
245:249,29[A  ]| I can not undertake to$9$ see him through."
245:249,30[B  ]| "He ought to$9$ succeed easily," 
245:249,30['  ]| said Ralph.
245:249,31['  ]| Isabel debated.  
245:249,31[A  ]| "Yes ~~ but he has not always
245:249,32[A  ]| succeeded."
245:250,01[B  ]| "Very true.  You know, however, how that$6#2$ always
245:250,02[B  ]| surprised me.  Is Miss*Osmond capable of giving us
245:250,03[B  ]| a surprise?"
245:250,04[A  ]| "It will$1$ come from him, rather.  I seem to$9$ see that$3$
245:250,05[A  ]| after all he will$1$ let the matter drop."
245:250,06[B  ]| "He will$1$ do nothing dishonourable," 
245:250,06['  ]| said Ralph.
245:250,07[A  ]| "I am very sure of that$6#2$.  Nothing can be more
245:250,08[A  ]| honourable than for$4$ him to$9$ leave the poor child alone.
245:250,09[A  ]| She cares for$4$ another person, and it is cruel to$9$ attempt
245:250,10[A  ]| to$9$ bribe her by$4$ magnificent offers to$9$ give
245:250,11[A  ]| him up$5$."
245:250,12[B  ]| "Cruel to$4$ the other person perhaps ~~ the one she
245:250,13[B  ]| cares for$4$.  But Warburton is not obliged to$9$ mind
245:250,14[B  ]| that$6#2$."
245:250,15[A  ]| "No$7$, cruel to$4$ her," 
245:250,15['  ]| said Isabel.  
245:250,15[A  ]| "She would be
245:250,16[A  ]| very unhappy if she were to$9$ allow herself to$9$ be persuaded
245:250,17[A  ]| to$9$ desert poor Mr%*Rosier.  That$6#2$ idea seems
245:250,18[A  ]| to$9$ amuse you; of course you are not in$4$ love with him.
245:250,19[A  ]| He has the merit ~~ for$4$ Pansy ~~ of being in$4$ love
245:250,20[A  ]| with Pansy.  She can see at a glance that$3$ Lord*Warburton
245:250,21[A  ]| is not."
245:250,22[B  ]| "He would be very good to$4$ her," 
245:250,22['  ]| said Ralph.
245:250,23[A  ]| "He has been good to$4$ her already.  Fortunately,
245:250,24[A  ]| however, he has not said a word to$9$ disturb her.  He
245:250,25[A  ]| could come and bid her good-bye to-morrow with
245:250,26[A  ]| perfect propriety."
245:250,27[B  ]| "How would your husband like$1$ that$6#2$?"
245:250,28[A  ]| "Not at all; and he may be right in$4$ not liking it.
245:250,29[A  ]| Only he must obtain satisfaction himself."
245:250,30[B  ]| "Has he commissioned you to$9$ obtain it?" 
245:250,30['  ]| Ralph
245:250,31['  ]| ventured to$9$ ask.
245:250,32[A  ]| "It was natural that$3$ as an old friend of Lord*Warburton's
245:251,01[A  ]| ~~ an older friend, that$6#2$ is, than Gilbert ~~
245:251,02[A  ]| I should take an interest in$4$ his intentions."
245:251,03[B  ]| "Take an interest in$4$ his renouncing them, you
245:251,04[B  ]| mean?"
245:251,05['  ]| Isabel hesitated, frowning a little.  
245:251,05[A  ]| "Let me understand.
245:251,06[A  ]| Are you pleading his cause?"
245:251,07[B  ]| "Not in$4$ the least.  I am very glad he should not
245:251,08[B  ]| become your stepdaughter's husband.  It makes
245:251,09[B  ]| such a very queer relation to$4$ you!"  
245:251,09['  ]| said Ralph, smiling.
245:251,10[B  ]| "But I am rather nervous lest your husband
245:251,11[B  ]| should think you have not pushed him enough."
245:251,12['  ]| Isabel found herself able to$9$ smile as well as he.
245:251,13[A  ]| "He knows me well enough not to$9$ have expected me
245:251,14[A  ]| to$9$ push.  He himself has no$2$ intention of pushing,
245:251,15[A  ]| I presume.  I am not afraid I shall not be able to$9$
245:251,16[A  ]| justify myself!" 
245:251,16['  ]| she said lightly.
245:251,17['  ]| Her mask had dropped for$4$ an instant, but she had
245:251,18['  ]| put it on$4$ again, to$4$ Ralph's infinite disappointment.
245:251,19['  ]| He had caught a glimpse of her natural face and he
245:251,20['  ]| wished immensely to$9$ look into it.  He had an almost
245:251,21['  ]| savage desire to$9$ hear her complain of her husband ~~
245:251,22['  ]| hear her say that$3$ she should be held accountable for$4$
245:251,23['  ]| Lord*Warburton's defection.  Ralph was certain that$3$
245:251,24['  ]| this was her situation; he knew by$4$ instinct, in$4$ advance,
245:251,25['  ]| the form that$6#1$ in$4$ such an event Osmond's displeasure
245:251,26['  ]| would take.  It could only take the meanest
245:251,27['  ]| and cruellest.  He would have liked to$9$ warn Isabel
245:251,28['  ]| of it ~~ to$9$ let her see at least how he judged for$4$ her
245:251,29['  ]| and how he knew.  It little mattered that$3$ Isabel would
245:251,30['  ]| know much better; it was for$4$ his own satisfaction
245:251,31['  ]| more than for$4$ hers that$3$ he longed to$9$ show her he was
245:251,32['  ]| not deceived.  He tried and tried again to$9$ make her
245:252,01['  ]| betray Osmond; he felt cold-blooded, cruel, dishonourable
245:252,02['  ]| almost, in$4$ doing so$5#2$.  But it scarcely
245:252,03['  ]| mattered, for$3$ he only failed.  
245:252,03@b   | What had she come
245:252,04@b   | for$4$ then, and why did she seem almost to$9$ offer him
245:252,05@b   | a chance to$9$ violate their tacit convention?  Why did
245:252,06@b   | she ask him his advice if she gave him no$2$ liberty to$9$ 
245:252,07@b   | answer her?  How could they talk of her domestic
245:252,08@b   | embarrassments, as it pleased her humorously to$9$
245:252,09@b   | designate them, if the principal factor was not to$9$ be 
245:252,10@b   | mentioned?  These contradictions were themselves
245:252,11@b   | but an indication of her trouble, and her cry for$4$ help,
245:252,12@b   | just before, was the only thing he was bound to$9$ consider.
245:252,13[B  ]| "You will$1$ be decidedly at variance, all the same,"
245:252,14['  ]| he said in$4$ a moment.  And as she answered nothing,
245:252,15['  ]| looking as if she scarce understood, 
245:252,15[B  ]| "You will$1$
245:252,16[B  ]| find yourselves thinking very differently," 
245:252,16['  ]| he continued.
245:252,17['  ]| 
245:252,18[A  ]| "That$6#2$ may easily happen, among the most united
245:252,19[A  ]| couples!"  
245:252,19['  ]| She took up$5$ her parasol; he saw 
245:252,19@b   | she was
245:252,20@b   | nervous, afraid of what he might say.  
245:252,20[A  ]| "It is a matter
245:252,21[A  ]| we can hardly quarrel about, however," 
245:252,21['  ]| she added;
245:252,22[A  ]| "for$3$ almost all the interest is on$4$ his side.  That$6#2$ is
245:252,23[A  ]| very natural.  Pansy is after all his daughter ~~ not
245:252,24[A  ]| mine."  
245:252,24['  ]| And she put out her hand to$9$ wish him goodbye.
245:252,25['  ]| 
245:252,26['  ]| Ralph took an inward resolution that$3$ 
245:252,26@b   | she should not
245:252,27@b   | leave him without his letting her know that$3$ he knew
245:252,28@b   | everything: it seemed too great an opportunity to$9$
245:252,29@b   | lose.  
245:252,29[B  ]| "Do you know what his interest will$1$ make him
245:252,30[B  ]| say?"  
245:252,30['  ]| he asked as he took her hand.  She shook her
245:252,31['  ]| head, rather dryly ~~ not discouragingly ~~ and he
245:252,32['  ]| went on$5$.  
245:252,32[B  ]| "It will$1$ make him say that$3$ your want of
245:253,01[B  ]| zeal is owing to$4$ jealousy."  
245:253,01['  ]| He stopped a moment;
245:253,02['  ]| her face made him afraid.
245:253,03[A  ]| "To$4$ jealousy?"
245:253,04[B  ]| "To$4$ jealousy of his daughter."
245:253,05['  ]| She blushed red and threw back her head.  
245:253,05[A  ]| "You are
245:253,06[A  ]| not kind," 
245:253,06['  ]| she said in$4$ a voice that$6#1$ he had never heard
245:253,07['  ]| on$4$ her lips.
245:253,08[B  ]| "Be frank with me and you will$1$ see," 
245:253,08['  ]| he answered.
245:253,09['  ]| But she made no$2$ reply; she only pulled her hand
245:253,10['  ]| out of his own, which$6#1$ he tried still to$9$ hold, and rapidly
245:253,11['  ]| withdrew from the room.  She made up$5$ her mind to$9$ 
245:253,12['  ]| speak to$4$ Pansy, and she took an occasion on$4$ the same
245:253,13['  ]| day, going to$4$ the girl's room before dinner.  Pansy
245:253,14['  ]| was already dressed; she was always in$4$ advance of 
245:253,15['  ]| the time: it seemed to$9$ illustrate her pretty patience
245:253,16['  ]| and the graceful stillness with which$6#1$ she could sit
245:253,17['  ]| and wait.  At present she was seated, in$4$ her fresh
245:253,18['  ]| array, before the bed-room fire; she had blown out
245:253,19['  ]| her candles on$4$ the completion of her toilet, in$4$ accordance
245:253,20['  ]| with the economical habits in$4$ which$6#1$ she had
245:253,21['  ]| been brought up$5$ and which$6#1$ she was now more careful
245:253,22['  ]| than ever to$9$ observe; so$3$ that$3$ the room was lighted
245:253,23['  ]| only by$4$ a couple of logs.  The rooms in$4$ Palazzo*Roccanera
245:253,24['  ]| were as spacious as they were numerous, and
245:253,25['  ]| Pansy's virginal bower was an immense chamber
245:253,26['  ]| with a dark, heavily-timbered ceiling.  Its diminutive
245:253,27['  ]| mistress, in$4$ the midst of it, appeared but a speck of
245:253,28['  ]| humanity, and as she got up$5$, with quick deference,
245:253,29['  ]| to$9$ welcome Isabel, the latter was more than ever
245:253,30['  ]| struck with her shy sincerity.  Isabel had a difficult
245:253,31['  ]| task ~~ the only thing was to$9$ perform it as simply as
245:253,32['  ]| possible.  She felt bitter and angry, but she warned
245:254,01['  ]| herself against betraying this heat.  She was afraid
245:254,02['  ]| even of looking too grave, or at least too stern; she
245:254,03['  ]| was afraid of causing alarm.  But Pansy seemed to$9$
245:254,04['  ]| have guessed she had come more or less as a confessor;
245:254,05['  ]| for$3$ after she had moved the chair in$4$ which$6#1$
245:254,06['  ]| she had been sitting a little nearer to$4$ the fire and
245:254,07['  ]| Isabel had taken her place in$4$ it, she kneeled down
245:254,08['  ]| on$4$ a cushion in$4$ front of her, looking up$5$ and resting
245:254,09['  ]| her clasped hands on$4$ her stepmother's knees.  What
245:254,10['  ]| Isabel wished to$9$ do was to$9$ hear from her own lips
245:254,11['  ]| that$3$ her mind was not occupied with Lord*Warburton;
245:254,12['  ]| but if she desired the assurance she felt herself
245:254,13['  ]| by$4$ no$2$ means at liberty to$9$ provoke it.  The girl's father
245:254,14['  ]| would have qualified this as rank treachery; and
245:254,15['  ]| indeed Isabel knew that$3$ if Pansy should display the 
245:254,16['  ]| smallest germ of a disposition to$9$ encourage Lord*Warburton
245:254,17['  ]| her own duty was to$9$ hold her tongue.  It
245:254,18['  ]| was difficult to$9$ interrogate without appearing to$9$ suggest;
245:254,19['  ]| Pansy's supreme simplicity, an innocence even
245:254,20['  ]| more complete than Isabel had yet judged it, gave
245:254,21['  ]| to$4$ the most tentative enquiry something of the effect
245:254,22['  ]| of an admonition.  As she knelt there in$4$ the vague
245:254,23['  ]| firelight, with her pretty dress dimly shining, her
245:254,24['  ]| hands folded half in$4$ appeal and half in$4$ submission,
245:254,25['  ]| her soft eyes, raised and fixed, full of the seriousness
245:254,26['  ]| of the situation, she looked to$4$ Isabel like$4$ a childish
245:254,27['  ]| martyr decked out for$4$ sacrifice and scarcely presuming
245:254,28['  ]| even to$9$ hope to$9$ avert it.  When Isabel said to$4$
245:254,29['  ]| her that$3$ 
245:254,29@a   | she had never yet spoken to$4$ her of what
245:254,30@a   | might have been going on$5$ in$4$ relation to$4$ her getting
245:254,31@a   | married, but that$3$ her silence had not been indifference
245:254,32@a   | or ignorance, had only been the desire to$9$ leave her at
245:255,01@a   | liberty, 
245:255,01['  ]| Pansy bent forward, raised her face nearer
245:255,02['  ]| and nearer, and with a little murmur which$6#1$ evidently
245:255,03['  ]| expressed a deep longing, answered 
245:255,03@k   | that$3$ she had
245:255,04@k   | greatly wished her to$9$ speak and that$3$ she begged her
245:255,05@k   | to$9$ advise her now.
245:255,06[A  ]| "It is difficult for$4$ me to$9$ advise you," 
245:255,06['  ]| Isabel returned.
245:255,07[A  ]| "I do not know how I can undertake that$6#2$.
245:255,08[A  ]| That$6#2$ is for$4$ your father; you must get his advice and,
245:255,09[A  ]| above all, you must act on$4$ it."
245:255,10['  ]| At this Pansy dropped her eyes; for$4$ a moment she
245:255,11['  ]| said nothing.  
245:255,11[K  ]| "I think I should like$1$ your advice
245:255,12[K  ]| better than papa's," 
245:255,12['  ]| she presently remarked.
245:255,13[A  ]| "That$6#2$ is not as it should be," 
245:255,13['  ]| said Isabel coldly.
245:255,14[A  ]| "I love you very much, but your father loves you
245:255,15[A  ]| better."
245:255,16[K  ]| "It is not because you love me ~~ it is because
245:255,17[K  ]| you are a lady," 
245:255,17['  ]| Pansy answered with the air of saying
245:255,18['  ]| something very reasonable.  
245:255,18[K  ]| "A lady can advise
245:255,19[K  ]| a young girl better than a man."
245:255,20[A  ]| "I advise you then to$9$ pay the greatest respect to$4$ 
245:255,21[A  ]| your father's wishes."
245:255,22[K  ]| "Ah yes," 
245:255,22['  ]| said the child eagerly, 
245:255,22[K  ]| "I must do
245:255,23[K  ]| that$6#2$."
245:255,24[A  ]| "But if I speak to$4$ you now about your getting
245:255,25[A  ]| married it is not for$4$ your own sake, it is for$4$ mine,"
245:255,26['  ]| Isabel went on$5$.  
245:255,26[A  ]| "If I try to$9$ learn from you what you
245:255,27[A  ]| expect, what you desire, it is only that$3$ I may act
245:255,28[A  ]| accordingly."
245:255,29['  ]| Pansy stared, and then very quickly, 
245:255,29[K  ]| "Will$1$ you 
245:255,30[K  ]| do everything I want?"  
245:255,30['  ]| she asked.
245:255,31[A  ]| "Before I say yes I must know what such things
245:255,32[A  ]| are."
245:256,01['  ]| Pansy presently told her that$3$ 
245:256,01@k   | the only thing she
245:256,02@k   | wanted in$4$ life was to$9$ marry Mr%*Rosier.  He had
245:256,03@k   | asked her and she had told him she would do so$5#2$ if her
245:256,04@k   | papa would allow it.  Now her papa would not allow it.
245:256,05[A  ]| "Very well then, it is impossible," 
245:256,05['  ]| Isabel pronounced.
245:256,06['  ]| 
245:256,07[K  ]| "Yes, it is impossible," 
245:256,07['  ]| said Pansy without a sigh
245:256,08['  ]| and with the same extreme attention in$4$ her clear
245:256,09['  ]| little face.
245:256,10[A  ]| "You must think of something else then," 
245:256,10['  ]| Isabel
245:256,11['  ]| went on$5$; but Pansy, sighing at this, told her
245:256,12['  ]| that$3$ 
245:256,12@k   | she had attempted that$6#2$ feat without the least
245:256,13@k   | success.
245:256,14[K  ]| "You think of those who$6#1$ think of you," 
245:256,14['  ]| she said
245:256,15['  ]| with a faint smile.  
245:256,15[K  ]| "I know Mr%*Rosier thinks of 
245:256,16[K  ]| me."
245:256,17[A  ]| "He ought not to$9$," 
245:256,17['  ]| said Isabel loftily.  
245:256,17[A  ]| "Your
245:256,18[A  ]| father has expressly requested he should not."
245:256,19[K  ]| "He can not help it, because he knows I think of
245:256,20[K  ]| \him\."
245:256,21[A  ]| "You should not think of him.  There is some excuse
245:256,22[A  ]| for$4$ him, perhaps; but there is none for$4$ you."
245:256,23[K  ]| "I wish you would try to$9$ find one," 
245:256,23['  ]| the girl exclaimed
245:256,24['  ]| as if she were praying to$4$ the Madonna.
245:256,25[A  ]| "I should be very sorry to$9$ attempt it," 
245:256,25['  ]| said the 
245:256,26['  ]| Madonna with unusual frigidity.  
245:256,26[A  ]| "If you knew some*one
245:256,27[A  ]| else was thinking of you, would you think of 
245:256,28[A  ]| him?"
245:256,29[K  ]| "No*one can think of me as Mr%*Rosier does; no*one
245:256,30[K  ]| has the right."
245:256,31[A  ]| "Ah, but I do not admit Mr%*Rosier is right!" 
245:256,31['  ]| Isabel
245:256,32['  ]| hypocritically cried.              
245:257,01['  ]| Pansy only gazed at her, evidently much puzzled;
245:257,02['  ]| and Isabel, taking advantage of it, began to$9$ represent
245:257,03['  ]| to$4$ her the wretched consequences of disobeying her
245:257,04['  ]| father.  At this Pansy stopped her with the assurance
245:257,05['  ]| that$3$ 
245:257,05@k   | she would never disobey him, would never marry
245:257,06@k   | without his consent.  
245:257,06['  ]| And she announced, in$4$ the 
245:257,07['  ]| serenest, simplest tone, that$3$, 
245:257,07@k   | though she might never
245:257,08@k   | marry Mr%*Rosier, she would never cease to$9$ think of
245:257,09@k   | him.  
245:257,09['  ]| She appeared to$9$ have accepted the idea of
245:257,10['  ]| eternal singleness; but Isabel of course was free to$9$
245:257,11['  ]| reflect that$3$ 
245:257,11@a   | she had no$2$ conception of its meaning.
245:257,12@a   | She was perfectly sincere; she was prepared to$9$ give
245:257,13@a   | up$5$ her lover.  This might seem an important step
245:257,14@a   | toward taking another, but for$4$ Pansy, evidently, it
245:257,15@a   | failed to$9$ lead in$4$ that$6#2$ direction.  
245:257,15['  ]| She felt no$2$ bitterness
245:257,16['  ]| toward her father; there was no$2$ bitterness in$4$ her
245:257,17['  ]| heart; there was only the sweetness of fidelity to$4$
245:257,18['  ]| Edward*Rosier, and a strange, exquisite intimation
245:257,19['  ]| that$3$ she could prove it better by$4$ remaining single than
245:257,20['  ]| even by$4$ marrying him.
245:257,21[A  ]| "Your father would like$1$ you to$9$ make a better 
245:257,22[A  ]| marriage," 
245:257,22['  ]| said Isabel.  
245:257,22[A  ]| "Mr%*Rosier's fortune is not
245:257,23[A  ]| at all large."
245:257,24[K  ]| "How do you mean better ~~ if that$6#2$ would be good
245:257,25[K  ]| enough?  And I have myself so$5#1$ little money; why
245:257,26[K  ]| should I look for$4$ a fortune?"
245:257,27[A  ]| "Your having so$5#1$ little is a reason for$4$ looking for$4$
245:257,28[A  ]| more."  
245:257,28['  ]| With which$6#1$ Isabel was grateful for$4$ the dimness
245:257,29['  ]| of the room; she felt as if her face were hideously
245:257,30['  ]| insincere.  
245:257,30@a   | It was what she was doing for$4$ Osmond;
245:257,31@a   | it was what one had to$9$ do for$4$ Osmond!  
245:257,31['  ]| Pansy's
245:257,32['  ]| solemn eyes, fixed on$4$ her own, almost embarrassed
245:258,01['  ]| her; she was ashamed to$9$ think she had made so$5#1$ light 
245:258,02['  ]| of the girl's preference.
245:258,03[K  ]| "What should you like$1$ me to$9$ do?" 
245:258,03['  ]| her companion
245:258,04['  ]| softly demanded.
245:258,05['  ]| The question was a terrible one, and Isabel took
245:258,06['  ]| refuge in$4$ timorous vagueness.  
245:258,06[A  ]| "To$9$ remember all the 
245:258,07[A  ]| pleasure it is in$4$ your power to$9$ give your father."
245:258,08[K  ]| "To$9$ marry some*one else, you mean ~~ if he should
245:258,09[K  ]| ask me?"
245:258,10['  ]| For$4$ a moment Isabel's answer caused itself to$9$ be
245:258,11['  ]| waited for$5$; then she heard herself utter it in$4$ the 
245:258,12['  ]| stillness that$6#1$ Pansy's attention seemed to$9$ make.
245:258,13[A  ]| "Yes ~~ to$9$ marry someone else."
245:258,14['  ]| The child's eyes grew more penetrating; Isabel
245:258,15['  ]| believed she was doubting her sincerity, and the 
245:258,16['  ]| impression took force from her slowly getting up$5$
245:258,17['  ]| from her cushion.  She stood there a moment with
245:258,18['  ]| her small hands unclasped and then quavered out:
245:258,19[K  ]| "Well, I hope no*one will$1$ ask me!"
245:258,20[A  ]| "There has been a question of that$6#2$.  Some*one else
245:258,21[A  ]| would have been ready to$9$ ask you."
245:258,22[K  ]| "I do not think he can have been ready," 
245:258,22['  ]| said
245:258,23['  ]| Pansy.
245:258,24[A  ]| "It would appear so$5#2$ ~~ if he had been sure he would
245:258,25[A  ]| succeed."
245:258,26[K  ]| "If he had been sure?  Then he was not ready!"
245:258,27['  ]| Isabel thought this rather sharp; she also got up$5$
245:258,28['  ]| and stood a moment looking into the fire.  
245:258,28[A  ]| "Lord*Warburton
245:258,29[A  ]| has shown you great attention," 
245:258,29['  ]| she
245:258,30['  ]| resumed; 
245:258,30[A  ]| "of course you know it is of him I speak."
245:258,31['  ]| She found herself, against her expectation, almost
245:258,32['  ]| placed in$4$ the position of justifying herself; which$6#1$
245:259,01['  ]| led her to$9$ introduce this nobleman more crudely than
245:259,02['  ]| she had intended.
245:259,03[K  ]| "He has been very kind to$4$ me, and I like$1$ him very
245:259,04[K  ]| much.  But if you mean that$3$ he will$1$ propose for$4$ me 
245:259,05[K  ]| I think you are mistaken."
245:259,06[A  ]| "Perhaps I am.  But your father would like$1$ it
245:259,07[A  ]| extremely."
245:259,08['  ]| Pansy shook her head with a little wise smile.
245:259,09[K  ]| "Lord*Warburton will$1$ not propose simply to$9$ please
245:259,10[K  ]| papa."
245:259,11[A  ]| "Your father would like$1$ you to$9$ encourage him,"
245:259,12['  ]| Isabel went on$5$ mechanically.
245:259,13[K  ]| "How can I encourage him?"
245:259,14[A  ]| "I do not know.  Your father must tell you that$6#2$."
245:259,15['  ]| Pansy said nothing for$4$ a moment; she only continued
245:259,16['  ]| to$9$ smile as if she were in$4$ possession of a bright 
245:259,17['  ]| assurance.  
245:259,17[K  ]| "There is no$2$ danger ~~ no$2$ danger!" 
245:259,17['  ]| she 
245:259,18['  ]| declared at last.
245:259,19['  ]| There was a conviction in$4$ the way she said this,
245:259,20['  ]| and a felicity in$4$ her believing it, which$6#1$ conduced to$4$
245:259,21['  ]| Isabel's awkwardness.  She felt accused of dishonesty,
245:259,22['  ]| and the idea was disgusting.  To$9$ repair her self-respect
245:259,23['  ]| she was on$4$ the point of saying that$3$ Lord*Warburton
245:259,24['  ]| had let her know that$3$ there \was\ a danger.
245:259,25['  ]| But she did not; she only said ~~ in$4$ her embarrassment
245:259,26['  ]| rather wide of the mark ~~ that$3$ 
245:259,26@a   | he surely had
245:259,27@a   | been most kind, most friendly.
245:259,28[K  ]| "Yes, he has been very kind," 
245:259,28['  ]| Pansy answered.
245:259,29[K  ]| "That$6#2$ is what I like$1$ him for$4$."
245:259,30[A  ]| "Why then is the difficulty so$5#1$ great?"
245:259,31[K  ]| "I have always felt sure of his knowing that$3$ I do not
245:259,32[K  ]| want ~~ what did you say I should do? ~~ to$9$ encourage
245:260,01[K  ]| him.  He knows I do not want to$9$ marry, and he wants
245:260,02[K  ]| me to$9$ know that$3$ he therefore will$1$ not trouble me.
245:260,03[K  ]| That$6#2$ is the meaning of his kindness.  It is as if he
245:260,04[K  ]| said to$4$ me: ""I like$1$ you very much, but if it does not
245:260,05[K  ]| please you I will$1$ never say it again.""  I think that$6#2$ is
245:260,06[K  ]| very kind, very noble,"  
245:260,06['  ]| Pansy went on$5$ with deepening
245:260,07['  ]| positiveness.  
245:260,07[K  ]| "That$6#2$ is all we have said to$4$ each
245:260,08[K  ]| other.  And he does not care for$4$ me either.  Ah no$7$,
245:260,09[K  ]| there is no$2$ danger."
245:260,10['  ]| Isabel was touched with wonder at the depths of
245:260,11['  ]| perception of which$6#1$ this submissive little person was
245:260,12['  ]| capable; she felt afraid of Pansy's wisdom ~~ began
245:260,13['  ]| almost to$9$ retreat before it.  
245:260,13[A  ]| "You must tell your
245:260,14[A  ]| father that$6#2$," 
245:260,14['  ]| she remarked reservedly.
245:260,15[K  ]| "I think I would rather not," 
245:260,15['  ]| Pansy unreservedly answered.
245:260,16['  ]| 
245:260,17[A  ]| "You ought not to$9$ let him have false hopes."
245:260,18[K  ]| "Perhaps not; but it will$1$ be good for$4$ me that$3$ he
245:260,19[K  ]| should.  So$5#1$ long as he believes that$3$ Lord*Warburton
245:260,20[K  ]| intends anything of the kind you say, papa will$1$ not
245:260,21[K  ]| propose any*one else.  And that$6#2$ will$1$ be an advantage
245:260,22[K  ]| for$4$ me," 
245:260,22['  ]| said the child very lucidly.
245:260,23['  ]| There was something brilliant in$4$ her lucidity, and
245:260,24['  ]| it made her companion draw a long breath.  It relieved
245:260,25['  ]| this friend of a heavy responsibility.  Pansy
245:260,26['  ]| had a sufficient illumination of her own, and Isabel
245:260,27['  ]| felt that$3$ she herself just now had no$2$ light to$9$ spare
245:260,28['  ]| from her small stock.  Nevertheless it still clung to$4$
245:260,29['  ]| her that$3$ 
245:260,29@a   | she must be loyal to$4$ Osmond, that$3$ she was
245:260,30@a   | on$4$ her honour in$4$ dealing with his daughter.  
245:260,30['  ]| Under
245:260,31['  ]| the influence of this sentiment she threw out another
245:260,32['  ]| suggestion before she retired ~~ a suggestion with
245:261,01['  ]| which$6#1$ it seemed to$4$ her that$3$ she should have done
245:261,02['  ]| her utmost.  
245:261,02[A  ]| "Your father takes for$4$ granted at least
245:261,03[A  ]| that$3$ you would like$1$ to$9$ marry a nobleman."
245:261,04['  ]| Pansy stood in$4$ the open doorway; she had drawn
245:261,05['  ]| back the curtain for$4$ Isabel to$9$ pass.  
245:261,05[K  ]| "I think Mr%*Rosier
245:261,06[K  ]| looks like$4$ one!" 
245:261,06['  ]| she remarked very gravely.
246:262,01['  ]| Lord*Warburton was not seen in$4$ Mrs%*Osmond's
246:262,02['  ]| drawing-room for$4$ several days, and Isabel could not
246:262,03['  ]| fail to$9$ observe that$3$ 
246:262,03@a   | her husband said nothing to$4$ her
246:262,04@a   | about having received a letter from him.  
246:262,04['  ]| She could not
246:262,05['  ]| fail to$9$ observe, either, that$3$ 
246:262,05@a   | Osmond was in$4$ a state of
246:262,06@a   | expectancy and that$3$, though it was not agreeable to$4$
246:262,07@a   | him to$9$ betray it, he thought their distinguished friend
246:262,08@a   | kept him waiting quite too long.  
246:262,08['  ]| At the end of four
246:262,09['  ]| days he alluded to$4$ his absence.
246:262,10[C  ]| "What has become of Warburton?  What does 
246:262,11[C  ]| he mean by$4$ treating one like$4$ a tradesman with a
246:262,12[C  ]| bill?"
246:262,13[A  ]| "I know nothing about him," 
246:262,13['  ]| Isabel said.  
246:262,13[A  ]| "I saw
246:262,14[A  ]| him last Friday at the German ball.  He told me then
246:262,15[A  ]| that$3$ he meant to$9$ write to$4$ you."
246:262,16[C  ]| "He has never written to$4$ me."
246:262,17[A  ]| "So$5#2$ I supposed, from your not having told me."
246:262,18[C  ]| "He is an odd fish," 
246:262,18['  ]| said Osmond comprehensively.
246:262,19['  ]| And on$4$ Isabel's making no$2$ rejoinder he went on$5$ to$9$
246:262,20['  ]| enquire whether it took his lordship five days to$9$
246:262,21['  ]| indite a letter.  
246:262,21[C  ]| "Does he form his words with such
246:262,22[C  ]| difficulty?"
246:262,23[A  ]| "I do not know," 
246:262,23['  ]| Isabel was reduced to$4$ replying.
246:262,24[A  ]| "I have never had a letter from him."
246:262,25[C  ]| "Never had a letter?  I had an idea that$3$ you were
246:262,26[C  ]| at one time in$4$ intimate correspondence."
246:262,27['  ]| She answered that$3$ 
246:262,27@a   | this had not been the case, 
246:262,27['  ]| and
246:263,01['  ]| let the conversation drop.  On$4$ the morrow, however,
246:263,02['  ]| coming into the drawing-room late in$4$ the afternoon,
246:263,03['  ]| her husband took it up$5$ again.
246:263,04[C  ]| "When Lord*Warburton told you of his intention
246:263,05[C  ]| of writing what did you say to$4$ him?" 
246:263,05['  ]| he asked.
246:263,06['  ]| She just faltered.  
246:263,06[A  ]| "I think I told him not to$9$ forget
246:263,07[A  ]| it."
246:263,08[C  ]| "Did you believe there was a danger of that$6#2$?"
246:263,09[A  ]| "As you say, he is an odd fish."
246:263,10[C  ]| "Apparently he has forgotten it," 
246:263,10['  ]| said Osmond.
246:263,11[C  ]| "Be so$5#1$ good as to$9$ remind him."
246:263,12[A  ]| "Should you like$1$ me to$9$ write to$4$ him?" 
246:263,12['  ]| she demanded.
246:263,13['  ]| 
246:263,14[C  ]| "I have no$2$ objection whatever."
246:263,15[A  ]| "You expect too much of me."
246:263,16[C  ]| "Ah yes, I expect a great deal of you."
246:263,17[A  ]| "I am afraid I shall disappoint you," 
246:263,17['  ]| said Isabel.
246:263,18[C  ]| "My expectations have survived a good deal of
246:263,19[C  ]| disappointment."
246:263,20[A  ]| "Of course I know that$6#2$.  Think how I must have
246:263,21[A  ]| disappointed myself!  If you really wish hands laid
246:263,22[A  ]| on$4$ Lord*Warburton you must lay them yourself."
246:263,23['  ]| For$4$ a couple of minutes Osmond answered nothing;
246:263,24['  ]| then he said:
246:263,24[C  ]| "That$6#2$ will$1$ not be easy, with you working
246:263,25[C  ]| against me."
246:263,26['  ]| Isabel started; she felt herself beginning to$9$ tremble.
246:263,27['  ]| He had a way of looking at her through half-closed
246:263,28['  ]| eyelids, as if he were thinking of her but
246:263,29['  ]| scarcely saw her, which$6#1$ seemed to$4$ her to$9$ have a wonderfully
246:263,30['  ]| cruel intention.  
246:263,30@a   | It appeared to$9$ recognise her
246:263,31@a   | as a disagreeable necessity of thought, but to$9$ ignore
246:263,32@a   | her for$4$ the time as a presence.  That$6#2$ effect had never
246:264,01@a   | been so$5#1$ marked as now.  
246:264,01[A  ]| "I think you accuse me of 
246:264,02[A  ]| something very base," 
246:264,02['  ]| she returned.
246:264,03[C  ]| "I accuse you of not being trustworthy.  If he
246:264,04[C  ]| does not after all come forward it will$1$ be because
246:264,05[C  ]| you have kept him off.  I do not know that$3$ it is base: it
246:264,06[C  ]| is the kind of thing a woman always thinks she may
246:264,07[C  ]| do.  I have no$2$ doubt you have the finest ideas about it."
246:264,08[A  ]| "I told you I would do what I could," 
246:264,08['  ]| she went 
246:264,09['  ]| on$5$.
246:264,10[C  ]| "Yes, that$6#2$ gained you time."
246:264,11['  ]| It came over her, after he had said this, that$3$ 
246:264,11@a   | she 
246:264,12@a   | had once thought him beautiful.  
246:264,12[A  ]| "How much you
246:264,13[A  ]| must want to$9$ make sure of him!"  
246:264,13['  ]| she exclaimed in$4$
246:264,14['  ]| a moment.
246:264,15['  ]| She had no$2$ sooner spoken than she perceived the 
246:264,16['  ]| full reach of her words, of which$6#1$ she had not been
246:264,17['  ]| conscious in$4$ uttering them.  
246:264,17@a   | They made a comparison
246:264,18@a   | between Osmond and herself, recalled the fact that$3$
246:264,19@a   | she had once held this coveted treasure in$4$ her hand
246:264,20@a   | and felt herself rich enough to$9$ let it fall.  
246:264,20['  ]| A momentary
246:264,21['  ]| exultation took possession of her ~~ a horrible delight
246:264,22['  ]| in$4$ having wounded him; for$3$ his face instantly told
246:264,23['  ]| her that$3$ none of the force of her exclamation was lost.
246:264,24['  ]| He expressed nothing otherwise, however; he only
246:264,25['  ]| said quickly:
246:264,25[C  ]| "Yes, I want it immensely."
246:264,26['  ]| At this moment a servant came in$5$ to$9$ usher a visitor,
246:264,27['  ]| and he was followed the next by$4$ Lord*Warburton,
246:264,28['  ]| who$6#1$ received a visible check on$4$ seeing Osmond.  He
246:264,29['  ]| looked rapidly from the master of the house to$4$ the
246:264,30['  ]| mistress; a movement that$6#1$ seemed to$9$ denote a reluctance
246:264,31['  ]| to$9$ interrupt or even a perception of ominous
246:264,32['  ]| conditions.  Then he advanced, with his English
246:265,01['  ]| address, in$4$ which$6#1$ a vague shyness seemed to$9$ offer
246:265,02['  ]| itself as an element of good-breeding; in$4$ which$6#1$ the
246:265,03['  ]| only defect was a difficulty in$4$ achieving transitions.
246:265,04['  ]| Osmond was embarrassed; he found nothing to$9$ say;
246:265,05['  ]| but Isabel remarked, promptly enough, that$3$ 
246:265,05@a   | they
246:265,06@a   | had been in$4$ the act of talking about their visitor.
246:265,07['  ]| Upon$4$ this her husband added that$3$ 
246:265,07@c   | they had not
246:265,08@c   | known what was become of him ~~ they had been
246:265,09@c   | afraid he had gone away.  
246:265,09[D  ]| "No$7$," 
246:265,09['  ]| he explained,
246:265,10['  ]| smiling and looking at Osmond; 
246:265,10[D  ]| "I am only on$4$ the 
246:265,11[D  ]| point of going."  
246:265,11['  ]| And then he mentioned that$3$ he
246:265,12['  ]| found himself suddenly recalled to$4$ England: he
246:265,13['  ]| should start on$4$ the morrow or the day after.  
246:265,13[D  ]| "I am
246:265,14[D  ]| awfully sorry to$9$ leave poor Touchett!" 
246:265,14['  ]| he ended by$4$
246:265,15['  ]| exclaiming.
246:265,16['  ]| For$4$ a moment neither of his companions spoke;
246:265,17['  ]| Osmond only leaned back in$4$ his chair, listening.  Isabel
246:265,18['  ]| did not look at him; she could only fancy how
246:265,19['  ]| he looked.  Her eyes were on$4$ their visitor's face, where
246:265,20['  ]| they were the more free to$9$ rest that$3$ those of his lordship
246:265,21['  ]| carefully avoided them.  Yet Isabel was sure that$3$
246:265,22@a   | had she met his glance she would have found it expressive.
246:265,23[C  ]| "You had better take poor Touchett with 
246:265,24[C  ]| you," 
246:265,24['  ]| she heard her husband say, lightly enough, in$4$
246:265,25['  ]| a moment.
246:265,26[D  ]| "He had better wait for$4$ warmer weather," 
246:265,26['  ]| Lord*Warburton
246:265,27['  ]| answered.  
246:265,27[D  ]| "I should not advise him to$9$ 
246:265,28[D  ]| travel just now."
246:265,29['  ]| He sat there a quarter of an hour, talking as if he
246:265,30['  ]| might not soon see them again ~~ unless indeed they
246:265,31['  ]| should come to$4$ England, a course he strongly recommended.
246:265,32@d   | Why should not they come to$4$ England in$4$
246:266,01@d   | the autumn? ~~ that$6#2$ struck him as a very happy
246:266,02@d   | thought.  It would give him such pleasure to$9$ do what
246:266,03@d   | he could for$4$ them ~~ to$9$ have them come and spend
246:266,04@d   | a month with him.  Osmond, by$4$ his own admission,
246:266,05@d   | had been to$4$ England but once; which$6#1$ was an absurd
246:266,06@d   | state of things for$4$ a man of his leisure and intelligence.
246:266,07@d   | It was just the country for$4$ him ~~ he would be sure to$9$ 
246:266,08@d   | get on$5$ well there.  
246:266,08['  ]| Then Lord*Warburton asked Isabel
246:266,09@d   | if she remembered what a good time she had had there
246:266,10@d   | and if she did not want to$9$ try it again.  Did not she
246:266,11@d   | want to$9$ see Gardencourt once more?  Gardencourt
246:266,12@d   | was really very good.  Touchett did not take proper
246:266,13@d   | care of it, but it was the sort of place you could hardly
246:266,14@d   | spoil by$4$ letting it alone.  Why did not they come and
246:266,15@d   | pay Touchett a visit?  He surely must have asked
246:266,16@d   | them.  Had not asked them?  What an ill-mannered
246:266,17@d   | wretch! ~~ 
246:266,17['  ]| and Lord*Warburton promised to$9$ 
246:266,17@d   | give the 
246:266,18@d   | master of Gardencourt a piece of his mind.  Of course
246:266,19@d   | it was a mere accident; he would be delighted to$9$ have
246:266,20@d   | them.  Spending a month with Touchett and a month
246:266,21@d   | with himself, and seeing all the rest of the people they
246:266,22@d   | must know there, they really would not find it half bad.
246:266,23['  ]| Lord*Warburton added that$3$ 
246:266,23@d   | it would amuse Miss*Osmond
246:266,24@d   | as well, who$6#1$ had told him that$3$ she had never
246:266,25@d   | been to$4$ England and whom he had assured it was
246:266,26@d   | a country she deserved to$9$ see.  Of course she did not
246:266,27@d   | need to$9$ go to$4$ England to$9$ be admired ~~ that$6#2$ was her
246:266,28@d   | fate everywhere; but she would be an immense success
246:266,29@d   | there, she certainly would, if that$6#2$ was any inducement.
246:266,30['  ]| He asked 
246:266,30@d   | if she were not at home: could not
246:266,31@d   | he say good-bye?  Not that$3$ he liked good-byes ~~ he
246:266,32@d   | always funked them.  When he left England the other
246:267,01@d   | day he had not said good-bye to$4$ a two-legged creature.
246:267,02@d   | He had had half a mind to$9$ leave Rome without
246:267,03@d   | troubling Mrs%*Osmond for$4$ a final interview.  What
246:267,04@d   | could be more dreary than final interviews?  One
246:267,05@d   | never said the things one wanted ~~ one remembered
246:267,06@d   | them all an hour afterwards.  On$4$ the other hand one
246:267,07@d   | usually said a lot of things one should not, simply from
246:267,08@d   | a sense that$3$ one had to$9$ say something.  Such a sense
246:267,09@d   | was upsetting; it muddled one's wits.  He had it at
246:267,10@d   | present, and that$6#2$ was the effect it produced on$4$ him.
246:267,11@d   | If Mrs%*Osmond did not think he spoke as he ought
246:267,12@d   | she must set it down to$4$ agitation; it was no$2$ light thing
246:267,13@d   | to$9$ part with Mrs%*Osmond.  He was really very sorry
246:267,14@d   | to$9$ be going.  He had thought of writing to$4$ her instead
246:267,15@d   | of calling ~~ but he would write to$4$ her at any rate, to$9$
246:267,16@d   | tell her a lot of things that$6#1$ would be sure to$9$ occur
246:267,17@d   | to$4$ him as soon as he had left the house.  They must
246:267,18@d   | think seriously about coming to$4$ Lockleigh.
246:267,19['  ]| If there was anything awkward in$4$ the conditions
246:267,20['  ]| of his visit or in$4$ the announcement of his departure
246:267,21['  ]| it failed to$9$ come to$4$ the surface.  Lord*Warburton
246:267,22['  ]| talked about his agitation; but he showed it in$4$ no$2$
246:267,23['  ]| other manner, and Isabel saw that$3$ since he had determined
246:267,24['  ]| on$4$ a retreat he was capable of executing it gallantly.
246:267,25['  ]| She was very glad for$4$ him; she liked him
246:267,26['  ]| quite well enough to$9$ wish him to$9$ appear to$9$ carry a
246:267,27['  ]| thing off.  He would do that$6#2$ on$4$ any occasion ~~ not
246:267,28['  ]| from impudence but simply from the habit of success;
246:267,29['  ]| and Isabel felt it out of her husband's power to$9$ frustrate
246:267,30['  ]| this faculty.  A complex operation, as she sat
246:267,31['  ]| there, went on$5$ in$4$ her mind.  On$4$ one side she listened
246:267,32['  ]| to$4$ their visitor; said what was proper to$4$ him; read,
246:268,01['  ]| more or less, between the lines of what he said himself;
246:268,02['  ]| and wondered how he would have spoken if he
246:268,03['  ]| had found her alone.  On$4$ the other she had a perfect
246:268,04['  ]| consciousness of Osmond's emotion.  She felt almost 
246:268,05['  ]| sorry for$4$ him; he was condemned to$4$ the sharp
246:268,06['  ]| pain of loss without the relief of cursing.  He had
246:268,07['  ]| had a great hope, and now, as he saw it vanish into
246:268,08['  ]| smoke, he was obliged to$9$ sit and smile and twirl his
246:268,09['  ]| thumbs.  Not that$3$ he troubled himself to$9$ smile very
246:268,10['  ]| brightly; he treated their friend on$4$ the whole to$4$
246:268,11['  ]| as vacant a countenance as so$5#1$ clever a man could
246:268,12['  ]| very well wear.  It was indeed a part of Osmond's
246:268,13['  ]| cleverness that$3$ he could look consummately uncompromised.
246:268,14['  ]| His present appearance, however, was
246:268,15['  ]| not a confession of disappointment; it was simply
246:268,16['  ]| a part of Osmond's habitual system, which$6#1$ was to$9$ be
246:268,17['  ]| inexpressive exactly in$4$ proportion as he was really intent.
246:268,18['  ]| He had been intent on$4$ this prize from the first;
246:268,19['  ]| but he had never allowed his eagerness to$9$ irradiate
246:268,20['  ]| his refined face.  He had treated his possible son-in-law
246:268,21['  ]| as he treated every*one ~~ with an air of being
246:268,22['  ]| interested in$4$ him only for$4$ his own advantage, not for$4$
246:268,23['  ]| any profit to$4$ a person already so$5#1$ generally, so$5#1$ perfectly
246:268,24['  ]| provided as Gilbert*Osmond.  He would give
246:268,25['  ]| no$2$ sign now of an inward rage which$6#1$ was the result
246:268,26['  ]| of a vanished prospect of gain ~~ not the faintest nor
246:268,27['  ]| subtlest.  Isabel could be sure of that$6#2$, if it was any
246:268,28['  ]| satisfaction to$4$ her.  Strangely, very strangely, it was a
246:268,29['  ]| satisfaction; she wished Lord*Warburton to$9$ triumph
246:268,30['  ]| before her husband, and at the same time she wished
246:268,31['  ]| her husband to$9$ be very superior before Lord*Warburton.
246:268,32@a   | Osmond, in$4$ his way, was admirable; he had,
246:269,01@a   | like$4$ their visitor, the advantage of an acquired habit.
246:269,02@a   | It was not that$6#2$ of succeeding, but it was something
246:269,03@a   | almost as good ~~ that$6#2$ of not attempting.  
246:269,03['  ]| As he leaned
246:269,04['  ]| back in$4$ his place, listening but vaguely to$4$ the other's
246:269,05['  ]| friendly offers and suppressed explanations ~~ as if
246:269,06['  ]| it were only proper to$9$ assume that$3$ they were addressed
246:269,07['  ]| essentially to$4$ his wife ~~ he had at least (since so$5#1$ little
246:269,08['  ]| else was left him) the comfort of thinking how well he
246:269,09['  ]| personally had kept out of it, and how the air of indifference,
246:269,10['  ]| which$6#1$ he was now able to$9$ wear, had the added
246:269,11['  ]| beauty of consistency.  It was something to$9$ be able to$9$
246:269,12['  ]| look as if the leave-taker's movements had no$2$ relation
246:269,13['  ]| to$4$ his own mind.  The latter did well, certainly; but
246:269,14['  ]| Osmond's performance was in$4$ its very nature more
246:269,15['  ]| finished.  Lord*Warburton's position was after all an
246:269,16['  ]| easy one; there was no$2$ reason in$4$ the world why he
246:269,17['  ]| should not leave Rome.  He had had beneficent inclinations,
246:269,18['  ]| but they had stopped short of fruition; he
246:269,19['  ]| had never committed himself, and his honour was safe.
246:269,20['  ]| Osmond appeared to$9$ take but a moderate interest in$4$
246:269,21['  ]| the proposal that$3$ they should go and stay with him
246:269,22['  ]| and in$4$ his allusion to$4$ the success Pansy might extract
246:269,23['  ]| from their visit.  He murmured a recognition, but left
246:269,24['  ]| Isabel to$9$ say that$3$ 
246:269,24@a   | it was a matter requiring grave consideration.
246:269,25['  ]| Isabel, even while she made this remark,
246:269,26['  ]| could see the great vista which$6#1$ had suddenly opened
246:269,27['  ]| out in$4$ her husband's mind, with Pansy's little figure
246:269,28['  ]| marching up$4$ the middle of it.
246:269,29['  ]| Lord*Warburton had asked leave to$9$ bid good-bye
246:269,30['  ]| to$4$ Pansy, but neither Isabel nor Osmond had made
246:269,31['  ]| any motion to$9$ send for$4$ her.  He had the air of giving
246:269,32['  ]| out that$3$ his visit must be short; he sat on$4$ a small chair,
246:270,01['  ]| as if it were only for$4$ a moment, keeping his hat in$4$ his
246:270,02['  ]| hand.  But he stayed and stayed; Isabel wondered
246:270,03@a   | what he was waiting for$4$.  She believed it was not to$9$
246:270,04@a   | see Pansy; 
246:270,04['  ]| she had an impression that$3$ 
246:270,04@a   | on$4$ the whole
246:270,05@a   | he would rather not see Pansy.  It was of course to$9$ see
246:270,06@a   | herself alone ~~ he had something to$9$ say to$4$ her.  
246:270,06['  ]| Isabel
246:270,07['  ]| had no$2$ great wish to$9$ hear it, for$3$ she was afraid it
246:270,08['  ]| would be an explanation, and she could perfectly dispense
246:270,09['  ]| with explanations.  Osmond, however, presently
246:270,10['  ]| got up$5$, like$4$ a man of good taste to$4$ whom it had occurred
246:270,11['  ]| that$3$ so$5#1$ inveterate a visitor might wish to$9$ say
246:270,12['  ]| just the last word of all to$4$ the ladies.  
246:270,12[C  ]| "I have a letter to$9$
246:270,13[C  ]| write before dinner," 
246:270,13['  ]| he said; 
246:270,13[C  ]| "you must excuse me.
246:270,14[C  ]| I will$1$ see if my daughter is disengaged, and if she is she
246:270,15[C  ]| shall know you are here.  Of course when you come to$4$ 
246:270,16[C  ]| Rome you will$1$ always look us up$5$.  Mrs%*Osmond will$1$
246:270,17[C  ]| talk to$4$ you about the English expedition: she decides
246:270,18[C  ]| all those things."
246:270,19['  ]| The nod with which$6#1$, instead of a hand-shake, he
246:270,20['  ]| wound up$5$ this little speech was perhaps rather a
246:270,21['  ]| meagre form of salutation; but on$4$ the whole it was all
246:270,22['  ]| the occasion demanded.  Isabel reflected that$3$ 
246:270,22@a   | after he
246:270,23@a   | left the room Lord*Warburton would have no$2$ pretext
246:270,24@a   | for$4$ saying, 
246:270,24@d   | "Your husband is very angry"; 
246:270,24['  ]| which$6#1$
246:270,25['  ]| would have been extremely disagreeable to$4$ her.  Nevertheless,
246:270,26['  ]| if he had done so$5#2$, she would have said:
246:270,26@a   | "Oh,
246:270,27@a   | do not be anxious.  He does not hate \you\: it is me that$6#1$
246:270,28@a   | he hates!"
246:270,29['  ]| It was only when they had been left alone together
246:270,30['  ]| that$3$ her friend showed a certain vague awkwardness
246:270,31['  ]| ~sitting down in$4$ another chair, handling two or three
246:270,32['  ]| of the objects that$6#1$ were near him.  
246:270,32[D  ]| "I hope he will$1$ make
246:271,01[D  ]| Miss*Osmond come," 
246:271,01['  ]| he presently remarked.  
246:271,01[D  ]| "I 
246:271,02[D  ]| want very much to$9$ see her."
246:271,03[A  ]| "I am glad it is the last time," 
246:271,03['  ]| said Isabel.
246:271,04[D  ]| "So$5#2$ am I.  She does not care for$4$ me."
246:271,05[A  ]| "No$7$, she does not care for$4$ you."
246:271,06[D  ]| "I do not wonder at it," 
246:271,06['  ]| he returned.  Then he added
246:271,07['  ]| with inconsequence:
246:271,07[D  ]| "You will$1$ come to$4$ England, will$1$ not
246:271,08[D  ]| you?"
246:271,09[A  ]| "I think we had better not."
246:271,10[D  ]| "Ah, you owe me a visit.  Do not you remember that$3$
246:271,11[D  ]| you were to$9$ have come to$4$ Lockleigh once, and you
246:271,12[D  ]| never did?"
246:271,13[A  ]| "Everything is changed since then," 
246:271,13['  ]| said Isabel.
246:271,14[D  ]| "Not changed for$4$ the worse, surely ~~ as far as
246:271,15[D  ]| we are concerned.  To$9$ see you under my roof" 
246:271,15['  ]| ~~ and
246:271,16['  ]| he hung fire but an instant ~~ 
246:271,16[D  ]| "would be a great satisfaction."
246:271,17[D  ]|
246:271,18['  ]| She had feared an explanation; but that$6#2$ was the
246:271,19['  ]| only one that$6#1$ occurred.  They talked a little of Ralph,
246:271,20['  ]| and in$4$ another moment Pansy came in$5$, already dressed
246:271,21['  ]| for$4$ dinner and with a little red spot in$4$ either cheek.
246:271,22['  ]| She shook hands with Lord*Warburton and stood
246:271,23['  ]| looking up$5$ into his face with a fixed smile ~~ a smile
246:271,24['  ]| that$6#1$ Isabel knew, though his lordship probably never
246:271,25['  ]| suspected it, to$9$ be near akin to$4$ a burst of tears.
246:271,26[D  ]| "I am going away," 
246:271,26['  ]| he said.  
246:271,26[D  ]| "I want to$9$ bid you
246:271,27[D  ]| good-bye."
246:271,28[K  ]| "Good-bye, Lord*Warburton."  
246:271,28['  ]| Her voice perceptibly
246:271,29['  ]| trembled.
246:271,30[D  ]| "And I want to$9$ tell you how much I wish you may
246:271,31[D  ]| be very happy."
246:271,32[K  ]| "Thank you, Lord*Warburton," 
246:271,32['  ]| Pansy answered.
246:272,01['  ]| He lingered a moment and gave a glance at Isabel.
246:272,02[D  ]| "You ought to$9$ be very happy ~~ you have got a guardian
246:272,03[D  ]| angel."
246:272,04[K  ]| "I am sure I shall be happy," 
246:272,04['  ]| said Pansy in$4$ the 
246:272,05['  ]| tone of a person whose certainties were always cheerful.
246:272,06['  ]| 
246:272,07[D  ]| "Such a conviction as that$6#2$ will$1$ take you a great
246:272,08[D  ]| way.  But if it should ever fail you, remember ~~ remember ~~ "
246:272,09['  ]| And her interlocutor stammered a little.
246:272,10[D  ]| "Think of me sometimes, you know!" 
246:272,10['  ]| he said with
246:272,11['  ]| a vague laugh.  Then he shook hands with Isabel in$4$ 
246:272,12['  ]| silence, and presently he was gone.
246:272,13['  ]| When he had left the room she expected an effusion
246:272,14['  ]| of tears from her stepdaughter; but Pansy in$4$ fact 
246:272,15['  ]| treated her to$4$ something very different.
246:272,16[K  ]| "I think you \are\ my guardian angel!" 
246:272,16['  ]| she exclaimed
246:272,17['  ]| very sweetly.
246:272,18['  ]| Isabel shook her head.  
246:272,18[A  ]| "I am not an angel of any
246:272,19[A  ]| kind.  I am at the most your good friend."
246:272,20[K  ]| "You are a very good friend then ~~ to$9$ have asked
246:272,21[K  ]| papa to$9$ be gentle with me."
246:272,22[A  ]| "I have asked your father nothing," 
246:272,22['  ]| said Isabel,
246:272,23['  ]| wondering.
246:272,24[K  ]| "He told me just now to$9$ come to$4$ the drawing-room,
246:272,25[K  ]| and then he gave me a very kind kiss."
246:272,26[A  ]| "Ah," 
246:272,26['  ]| said Isabel, 
246:272,26[A  ]| "that$6#2$ was quite his own idea!"
246:272,27['  ]| She recognised the idea perfectly; it was very characteristic,
246:272,28['  ]| and she was to$9$ see a great deal more of it.
246:272,29['  ]| Even with Pansy he could not put himself the least in$4$
246:272,30['  ]| the wrong.  They were dining out that$6#2$ day, and after
246:272,31['  ]| their dinner they went to$4$ another entertainment; so$3$
246:272,32['  ]| that$3$ it was not till late in$4$ the evening that$3$ Isabel saw
246:273,01['  ]| him alone.  When Pansy kissed him before going to$4$ 
246:273,02['  ]| bed he returned her embrace with even more than his
246:273,03['  ]| usual munificence, and Isabel wondered 
246:273,03@a   | if he meant
246:273,04@a   | it as a hint that$3$ his daughter had been injured by$4$ the 
246:273,05@a   | machinations of her stepmother.  It was a partial
246:273,06@a   | expression, at any rate, of what he continued to$9$ expect
246:273,07@a   | of his wife.  
246:273,07['  ]| She was about to$9$ follow Pansy, but he
246:273,08['  ]| remarked that$3$ 
246:273,08@c   | he wished she would remain; he had
246:273,09@c   | something to$9$ say to$4$ her.  
246:273,09['  ]| Then he walked about the 
246:273,10['  ]| drawing-room a little, while she stood waiting in$4$ her
246:273,11['  ]| cloak.
246:273,12[C  ]| "I do not understand what you wish to$9$ do," 
246:273,12['  ]| he said
246:273,13['  ]| in$4$ a moment.  
246:273,13[C  ]| "I should like$1$ to$9$ know ~~ so$3$ that$3$ I
246:273,14[C  ]| may know how to$9$ act."
246:273,15[A  ]| "Just now I wish to$9$ go to$4$ bed.  I am very tired."
246:273,16[C  ]| "Sit down and rest; I shall not keep you long.
246:273,17[C  ]| Not there ~~ take a comfortable place."  
246:273,17['  ]| And he
246:273,18['  ]| arranged a multitude of cushions that$6#1$ were scattered
246:273,19['  ]| in$4$ pictureque disorder upon$4$ a vast divan.  This was
246:273,20['  ]| not, however, where she seated herself; she dropped
246:273,21['  ]| into the nearest chair.  The fire had gone out; the
246:273,22['  ]| lights in$4$ the great room were few.  She drew her
246:273,23['  ]| cloak about her; she felt mortally cold.  
246:273,23[C  ]| "I think
246:273,24[C  ]| you are trying to$9$ humiliate me," 
246:273,24['  ]| Osmond went on$5$.
246:273,25[C  ]| "It is a most absurd undertaking."
246:273,26[A  ]| "I have not the least idea what you mean," 
246:273,26['  ]| she
246:273,27['  ]| returned.
246:273,28[C  ]| "You have played a very deep game; you have
246:273,29[C  ]| managed it beautifully."
246:273,30[A  ]| "What is it that$6#1$ I have managed?"
246:273,31[C  ]| "You have not quite settled it, however; we shall
246:273,32[C  ]| see him again."  
246:273,32['  ]| And he stopped in$4$ front of her, with
246:274,01['  ]| his hands in$4$ his pockets, looking down at her thoughtfully,
246:274,02['  ]| in$4$ his usual way, which$6#1$ seemed meant to$9$ let
246:274,03['  ]| her know that$3$ she was not an object, but only a rather
246:274,04['  ]| disagreeable incident, of thought.
246:274,05[A  ]| "If you mean that$3$ Lord*Warburton is under an
246:274,06[A  ]| obligation to$9$ come back you are wrong," 
246:274,06['  ]| Isabel said.
246:274,07[A  ]| "He is under none whatever."
246:274,08[C  ]| "That$6#2$ is just what I complain of.  But when I say
246:274,09[C  ]| he will$1$ come back I do not mean he will$1$ come from a sense
246:274,10[C  ]| of duty."
246:274,11[A  ]| "There is nothing else to$9$ make him.  I think he has
246:274,12[A  ]| quite exhausted Rome."
246:274,13[C  ]| "Ah no$7$, that$6#2$ is a shallow judgement.  Rome is inexhaustible."
246:274,14['  ]| And Osmond began to$9$ walk about
246:274,15['  ]| again. 
246:274,15[C  ]| "However, about that$6#2$ perhaps there is no$2$
246:274,16[C  ]| hurry," 
246:274,16['  ]| he added.  
246:274,16[C  ]| "It is rather a good idea of his
246:274,17[C  ]| that$3$ we should go to$4$ England.  If it were not for$4$ the 
246:274,18[C  ]| fear of finding your cousin there I think I should try
246:274,19[C  ]| to$9$ persuade you."
246:274,20[A  ]| "It may be that$3$ you will$1$ not find my cousin," 
246:274,20['  ]| said
246:274,21['  ]| Isabel.
246:274,22[C  ]| "I should like$1$ to$9$ be sure of it.  However, I shall be
246:274,23[C  ]| as sure as possible.  At the same time I should like$1$
246:274,24[C  ]| to$9$ see his house, that$6#1$ you told me so$5#1$ much about at
246:274,25[C  ]| one time: what do you call it ~~ Gardencourt.  It
246:274,26[C  ]| must be a charming thing.  And then, you know,
246:274,27[C  ]| I have a devotion to$4$ the memory of your uncle: you
246:274,28[C  ]| made me take a great fancy to$4$ him.  I should like$1$
246:274,29[C  ]| to$9$ see where he lived and died.  That$6#2$ indeed is a 
246:274,30[C  ]| detail.  Your friend was right.  Pansy ought to$9$ see
246:274,31[C  ]| England."
246:274,32[A  ]| "I have no$2$ doubt she would enjoy it," 
246:274,32['  ]| said Isabel.
246:275,01[C  ]| "But that$6#2$ is a long time hence; next autumn is
246:275,02[C  ]| far off," 
246:275,02['  ]| Osmond continued; 
246:275,02[C  ]| "and meantime there
246:275,03[C  ]| are things that$6#1$ more nearly interest us.  Do you
246:275,04[C  ]| think me so$5#1$ very proud?" 
246:275,04['  ]| he suddenly asked.
246:275,05[A  ]| "I think you very strange."
246:275,06[C  ]| "You do not understand me."
246:275,07[A  ]| "No$7$, not even when you insult me."
246:275,08[C  ]| "I do not insult you; I am incapable of it.  I merely
246:275,09[C  ]| speak of certain facts, and if the allusion is an injury
246:275,10[C  ]| to$4$ you the fault is not mine.  It is surely a fact
246:275,11[C  ]| that$3$ you have kept all this matter quite in$4$ your own
246:275,12[C  ]| hands."
246:275,13[A  ]| "Are you going back to$4$ Lord*Warburton?" 
246:275,13['  ]| Isabel
246:275,14['  ]| asked.  
246:275,14[A  ]| "I am very tired of his name."
246:275,15[C  ]| "You shall hear it again before we have done with
246:275,16[C  ]| it."
246:275,17['  ]| She had spoken of his insulting her, but it suddenly
246:275,18['  ]| seemed to$4$ her that$3$ 
246:275,18@a   | this ceased to$9$ be a pain.  He was
246:275,19@a   | going down ~~ down; the vision of such a fall made
246:275,20@a   | her almost giddy: that$6#2$ was the only pain.  He was
246:275,21@a   | too strange, too different; he did not touch her.
246:275,22['  ]| Still, the working of his morbid passion was extraordinary,
246:275,23['  ]| and she felt a rising curiosity to$9$ know in$4$
246:275,24['  ]| what light he saw himself justified.  
246:275,24[A  ]| "I might say to$4$
246:275,25[A  ]| you that$3$ I judge you have nothing to$9$ say to$4$ me that$6#1$ is
246:275,26[A  ]| worth hearing," 
246:275,26['  ]| she returned in$4$ a moment.  
246:275,26[A  ]| "But
246:275,27[A  ]| I should perhaps be wrong.  There is a thing that$3$ 
246:275,28[A  ]| would be worth my hearing ~~ to$9$ know in$4$ the plainest
246:275,29[A  ]| words of what it is you accuse me."
246:275,30[C  ]| "Of having prevented Pansy's marriage to$4$ Warburton.
246:275,31[C  ]| Are those words plain enough?"
246:275,32[A  ]| "On$4$ the contrary, I took a great interest in$4$ it. I
246:276,01[A  ]| told you so$5#2$; and when you told me that$3$ you counted
246:276,02[A  ]| on$4$ me ~~ that$6#2$ I think was what you said ~~ I accepted
246:276,03[A  ]| the obligation.  I was a fool to$9$ do so$5#2$, but I did it."
246:276,04[C  ]| "You pretended to$9$ do it, and you even pretended
246:276,05[C  ]| reluctance to$9$ make me more willing to$9$ trust you.
246:276,06[C  ]| Then you began to$9$ use your ingenuity to$9$ get him out
246:276,07[C  ]| of the way."
246:276,08[A  ]| "I think I see what you mean," 
246:276,08['  ]| said Isabel.
246:276,09[C  ]| "Where is the letter you told me he had written
246:276,10[C  ]| me?" 
246:276,10['  ]| her husband demanded.
246:276,11[A  ]| "I have not the least idea; I have not asked him."
246:276,12[C  ]| "You stopped it on$4$ the way," 
246:276,12['  ]| said Osmond.
246:276,13['  ]| Isabel slowly got up$5$; standing there in$4$ her white
246:276,14['  ]| cloak, which$6#1$ covered her to$4$ her feet, she might have
246:276,15['  ]| represented the angel of disdain, first cousin to$4$ that$6#2$
246:276,16['  ]| of pity.  
246:276,16[A  ]| "Oh, Gilbert, for$4$ a man who$6#1$ was so$5#1$ fine ~!"
246:276,17['  ]| she exclaimed in$4$ a long murmur.
246:276,18[C  ]| "I was never so$5#1$ fine as you.  You have done everything
246:276,19[C  ]| you wanted.  You have got him out of the way
246:276,20[C  ]| without appearing to$9$ do so$5#2$, and you have placed me
246:276,21[C  ]| in$4$ the position in$4$ which$6#1$ you wished to$9$ see me ~~ that$6#2$
246:276,22[C  ]| of a man who$6#1$ has tried to$9$ marry his daughter to$4$ a 
246:276,23[C  ]| lord, but has grotesquely failed."
246:276,24[A  ]| "Pansy doe not care for$4$ him.  She is very glad
246:276,25[A  ]| he is gone," 
246:276,25['  ]| Isabel said.
246:276,26[C  ]| "That$6#2$ has nothing to$9$ do with the matter."
246:276,27[A  ]| "And he does not care for$4$ Pansy."
246:276,28[C  ]| "That$6#2$ will$1$ not do; you told me he did.  I do not know
246:276,29[C  ]| why you wanted this particular satisfaction," 
246:276,29['  ]| Osmond
246:276,30['  ]| continued; 
246:276,30[C  ]| "you might have taken some other.  It
246:276,31[C  ]| does not seem to$4$ me that$3$ I have been presumptuous ~~
246:276,32[C  ]| that$3$ I have taken too much for$4$ granted.  I have been
246:277,01[C  ]| very modest about it, very quiet.  The idea did not
246:277,02[C  ]| originate with me.  He began to$9$ show that$3$ he liked
246:277,03[C  ]| her before I ever thought of it.  I left it all to$4$ you."
246:277,04[A  ]| "Yes, you were very glad to$9$ leave it to$4$ me.  After
246:277,05[A  ]| this you must attend to$4$ such things yourself."
246:277,06['  ]| He looked at her a moment; then he turned away.
246:277,07[C  ]| "I thought you were very fond of my daughter."
246:277,08[A  ]| "I have never been more so$5#2$ than to-day."
246:277,09[C  ]| "Your affection is attended with immense limitations.
246:277,10[C  ]| However, that$6#2$ perhaps is natural."
246:277,11[A  ]| "Is this all you wished to$9$ say to$4$ me?" 
246:277,11['  ]| Isabel
246:277,12['  ]| asked, taking a candle that$6#1$ stood on$4$ one of the tables.
246:277,13[C  ]| "Are you satisfied?  Am I sufficiently disappointed?"
246:277,14[C  ]| 
246:277,15[A  ]| "I do not think that$3$ on$4$ the whole you are disappointed.
246:277,16[A  ]| You have had another opportunity to$9$ try to$9$
246:277,17[A  ]| stupefy me."
246:277,18[C  ]| "It is not that$6#2$.  It is proved that$3$ Pansy can aim
246:277,19[C  ]| high."
246:277,20[A  ]| "Poor little Pansy!"  
246:277,20['  ]| said Isabel as she turned
246:277,21['  ]| away with her candle.
247:278,01['  ]| It was from Henrietta*Stackpole that$3$ she learned
247:278,02['  ]| how Caspar*Goodwood had come to$4$ Rome; an
247:278,03['  ]| event that$6#1$ took place three days after Lord*Warburton's
247:278,04['  ]| departure.  This latter fact had been preceded
247:278,05['  ]| by$4$ an incident of some importance to$4$ Isabel ~~ the
247:278,06['  ]| temporary absence, once again, of Madame*Merle,
247:278,07['  ]| who$6#1$ had gone to$4$ Naples to$9$ stay with a friend, the 
247:278,08['  ]| happy possessor of a villa at Posilippo.  Madame*Merle
247:278,09['  ]| had ceased to$9$ minister to$4$ Isabel's happiness,
247:278,10['  ]| who$6#1$ found herself wondering whether the most discreet
247:278,11['  ]| of women might not also by$4$ chance be the most
247:278,12['  ]| dangerous.  Sometimes, at night, she had strange
247:278,13['  ]| visions; she seemed to$9$ see her husband and her
247:278,14['  ]| friend ~~ his friend ~~ in$4$ dim, indistinguishable combination.
247:278,15['  ]| It seemed to$4$ her that$3$ she had not done with 
247:278,16['  ]| her; this lady had something in$4$ reservse.  Isabel's
247:278,17['  ]| imagination applied itself actively to$4$ this elusive
247:278,18['  ]| point, but every now and then it was checked by$4$ a
247:278,19['  ]| nameless dread, so$3$ that$3$ when the charming woman
247:278,20['  ]| was away from Rome she had almost a consciousness
247:278,21['  ]| of respite.  She had already learned from Miss*Stackpole
247:278,22['  ]| that$3$ Caspar*Goodwood was in$4$ Europe, Henrietta
247:278,23['  ]| having written to$9$ make it known to$4$ her immediately
247:278,24['  ]| after meeting him in$4$ Paris.  He himself never
247:278,25['  ]| wrote to$4$ Isabel, and though he was in$4$ Europe she 
247:278,26['  ]| thought
247:278,26@a   | it very possible he might not desire to$9$ see
247:278,27@a   | her.  Their last interview, before her marriage, had
247:279,01@a   | had quite the character of a complete rupture; if
247:279,02@a   | she remembered rightly he had said he wished to$9$
247:279,03@a   | take his last look at her.  Since then he had been
247:279,04@a   | the most discordant survival of her earlier time ~~ the
247:279,05@a   | only one in$4$ fact with which$6#1$ a permanent pain was
247:279,06@a   | associated.  He had left her that$6#2$ morning with a
247:279,07@a   | sense of the most superfluous of shocks: it was like$4$
247:279,08@a   | a collision between vessels in$4$ broad daylight.  There
247:279,09@a   | had been no$2$ mist, no$2$ hidden current to$9$ excuse it,
247:279,10@a   | and she herself had only wished to$9$ steer wide.  He
247:279,11@a   | had bumped against her prow, however, while her
247:279,12@a   | hand was on$4$ the tiller, and ~~ to$9$ complete the metaphor
247:279,13@a   | ~~ had given the lighter vessel a strain which$6#1$
247:279,14@a   | still occasionally betrayed itself in$4$ a faint creaking.
247:279,15@a   | It had been horrid to$9$ see him, because he represented
247:279,16@a   | the only serious harm that$6#1$ 
247:279,16['  ]| (to$4$ her belief) 
247:279,16@a   | she
247:279,17@a   | had ever done in$4$ the world: he was the only person
247:279,18@a   | with an unsatisfied claim on$4$ her.  She had made him
247:279,19@a   | unhappy, she could not help it; and his unhappiness 
247:279,20@a   | was a grim reality.  
247:279,20['  ]| She had cried with rage, after he
247:279,21['  ]| had left her, 
247:279,21@a   | at ~~ she hardly knew what: 
247:279,21['  ]| she tried to$9$
247:279,22['  ]| think 
247:279,22@a   | it had been at his want of consideration.  He
247:279,23@a   | had come to$4$ her with his unhappiness when her own
247:279,24@a   | bliss was so$5#1$ perfect; he had done his best to$9$ darken
247:279,25@a   | the brightness of those pure rays.  He had not been 
247:279,26@a   | violent, and yet there had been a violence in$4$ the 
247:279,27@a   | impression.  There had been a violence at any rate
247:279,28@a   | in$4$ something somewhere; perhaps it was only in$4$
247:279,29@a   | her own fit of weeping and in$4$ that$6#2$ after-sense of the
247:279,30@a   | same which$6#1$ had lasted three or four days.
247:279,31@a   | The effect of his final appeal had in$4$ short faded
247:279,32@a   | away, and all the first year of her marriage he had
247:280,01@a   | dropped out of her books.  He was a thankless subject
247:280,02@a   | of reference; it was disagreeable to$9$ have to$9$ think of
247:280,03@a   | a person who$6#1$ was sore and sombre about you and
247:280,04@a   | whom you could yet do nothing to$9$ relieve.  It would
247:280,05@a   | have been different if she had been able to$9$ doubt, even
247:280,06@a   | a little, of his unreconciled state, as she doubted of
247:280,07@a   | Lord*Warburton's; unfortunately it was beyond question,
247:280,08@a   | and this aggressive, uncompromising look of it
247:280,09@a   | was just what made it unattractive.  She could never
247:280,10@a   | say to$4$ herself that$3$ here was a sufferer who$6#1$ had compensations,
247:280,11@a   | as she was able to$9$ say in$4$ the case of her
247:280,12@a   | English suitor.  She had no$2$ faith in$4$ Mr%*Goodwood's
247:280,13@a   | compensations and no$2$ esteem for$4$ them.  A cotton-factory
247:280,14@a   | was not a compensation for$4$ anything ~~ least 
247:280,15@a   | of all for$4$ having failed to$9$ marry Isabel*Archer.  And
247:280,16@a   | yet, beyond that$6#2$, she hardly knew what he had ~~
247:280,17@a   | save of course his intrinsic qualities. Oh, he was intrinsic  
247:280,18@a   | enough; she never thought of his even looking
247:280,19@a   | for$4$ artificial aids. If he extended his business ~~ that$6#2$,
247:280,20@a   | to$4$ the best of her belief, was the only form exertion
247:280,21@a   | could take with him ~~ it would be because it was an
247:280,22@a   | enterprising thing, or good for$4$ the business; not in$4$
247:280,23@a   | the least because he might hope it would overlay the 
247:280,24@a   | past.  
247:280,24@a   | This gave his figure a kind of bareness and
247:280,25@a   | bleakness which$6#1$ made the accident of meeting it in$4$
247:280,26@a   | memory or in$4$ apprehension a peculiar concussion; it
247:280,27@a   | was deficient in$4$ the social drapery commonly muffling,
247:280,28@a   | in$4$ an overcivilized age, the sharpness of human contacts.
247:280,29@a   | His perfect silence, moreover, the fact that$3$ she
247:280,30@a   | never heard from him and very seldom heard any
247:280,31@a   | mention of him, deepened this impression of his loneliness.
247:280,32['  ]| She asked Lily for$4$ news of him, from time to$4$ 
247:281,01['  ]| time; but Lily knew nothing of Boston ~~ her imagination 
247:281,02['  ]| was all bounded on$4$ the east by$4$ Madison Avenue.
247:281,03['  ]| As time went on$5$ Isabel had thought of him
247:281,04['  ]| oftener, and with fewer restrictions; she had had
247:281,05['  ]| more than once the idea of writing to$4$ him.  She had
247:281,06['  ]| never told her husband about him ~~ never let Osmond
247:281,07['  ]| know of his visits to$4$ her in$4$ Florence; a reserve
247:281,08['  ]| not dictated in$4$ the early period by$4$ a want of confidence
247:281,09['  ]| in$4$ Osmond, but simply by$4$ the consideration
247:281,10['  ]| that$3$ the young man's disappointment was not her secret
247:281,11['  ]| but his own.  
247:281,11@a   | It would be wrong of her, 
247:281,11['  ]| she had
247:281,12['  ]| believed, 
247:281,12@a   | to$9$ convey it to$4$ another, and Mr%*Goodwood's
247:281,13@a   | affairs could have, after all, little interest for$4$ Gilbert.
247:281,14['  ]| When it had come to$4$ the point she had never written
247:281,15['  ]| to$4$ him; it seemed to$4$ her that$3$, 
247:281,15@a   | considering his grievance,
247:281,16@a   | the least she could do was to$9$ let him alone.  
247:281,16['  ]| Nevertheless
247:281,17['  ]| she would have been glad to$9$ be in$4$ some way
247:281,18['  ]| nearer to$4$ him.  It was not that$3$ it ever occurred to$4$ her
247:281,19['  ]| that$3$ she might have married him; even after the consequences 
247:281,20['  ]| of her actual union had grown vivid to$4$ her 
247:281,21['  ]| that$6#2$ particular reflection, though she indulged in$4$ so$5#1$
247:281,22['  ]| many, had not had the assurance to$9$ present itself.  But
247:281,23['  ]| on$4$ finding herself in$4$ trouble he had become a member
247:281,24['  ]| of that$6#2$ circle of things with which$6#1$ she wished to$9$ set
247:281,25['  ]| herself right.  I have mentioned how passionately she
247:281,26['  ]| needed to$9$ feel that$3$ her unhappiness should not have
247:281,27['  ]| come to$4$ her through her own fault.  She had no$2$ near
247:281,28['  ]| prospect of dying, and yet she wished to$9$ make her
247:281,29['  ]| peace with the world ~~ to$9$ put her spiritual affairs in$4$
247:281,30['  ]| order.  It came back to$4$ her from time to$4$ time that$3$ there
247:281,31['  ]| was an account still to$9$ be settled with Caspar, and she
247:281,32['  ]| saw herself disposed or able to$9$ settle it to-day on$4$ terms
247:282,01['  ]| easier for$4$ him than ever before.  Still, when she learned
247:282,02['  ]| he was coming to$4$ Rome she felt all afraid; 
247:282,02@a   | it would
247:282,03@a   | be more disagreeable for$4$ him than for$4$ any*one else to$9$ 
247:282,04@a   | make out ~~ since he \would\ make it out, as over a falsified
247:282,05@a   | balance-sheet or something of that$6#2$ sort ~~ the
247:282,06@a   | intimate disarray of her affairs.  
247:282,06['  ]| Deep in$4$ her breast
247:282,07['  ]| she believed that$3$ 
247:282,07@a   | he had invested his all in$4$ her happiness,
247:282,08@a   | while the others had invested only a part.  He 
247:282,09@a   | was one more person from whom she should have to$9$
247:282,10@a   | conceal her stress.  
247:282,10['  ]| She was reassured, however, after
247:282,11['  ]| he arrived in$4$ Rome, for$3$ he spent several days without
247:282,12['  ]| coming to$9$ see her.
247:282,13['  ]| Henrietta*Stackpole, it may well be imagined, was
247:282,14['  ]| much more punctual, and Isabel was largely favoured
247:282,15['  ]| with the society of her friend.  She threw herself into
247:282,16['  ]| it, for$3$ now that$3$ she had made such a point of keeping
247:282,17['  ]| her conscience clear, that$6#2$ was one way of proving she
247:282,18['  ]| had not been superficial ~~ the more so$5#2$ as the years,
247:282,19['  ]| in$4$ their flight, had rather enriched than blighted those
247:282,20['  ]| pecularities which$6#1$ had been humorously criticised
247:282,21['  ]| by$4$ persons less interested than Isabel, and which$6#1$ were
247:282,22['  ]| still marked enough to$9$ give loyalty a spice of heroism.
247:282,23['  ]| Henrietta was as keen and quick and fresh as ever,
247:282,24['  ]| and as neat and bright and fair.  Her remarkably open
247:282,25['  ]| eyes, lighted like$4$ great glazed railway-stations, had
247:282,26['  ]| put up$5$ no$2$ shutters; her attire had lost none of its
247:282,27['  ]| crispness, her opinions none of their national reference.
247:282,28['  ]| She was by$4$ no$2$ means quite unchanged, however;
247:282,29['  ]| it struck Isabel she had grown vague.  Of old
247:282,30['  ]| she had never been vague; though undertaking many
247:282,31['  ]| enquiries at once, she had managed to$9$ be entire and
247:282,32['  ]| pointed about each.  She had a reason for$4$ everything
247:283,01['  ]| she did; she fairly bristled with motives.  Formerly,
247:283,02['  ]| when she came to$4$ Europe it was because she wished
247:283,03['  ]| to$9$ see it, but now, having already seen it, she had no$2$
247:283,04['  ]| such excuse.  She did not for$4$ a moment pretend that$3$
247:283,05['  ]| the desire to$9$ examine decaying civilisations had anything
247:283,06['  ]| to$9$ do with her present enterprise; her journey
247:283,07['  ]| was rather an expression of her independence of the 
247:283,08['  ]| old world than of a sense of further obligations to$4$ it.
247:283,09[I  ]| "It is nothing to$9$ come to$4$ Europe," 
247:283,09['  ]| she said to$4$ Isabel;
247:283,10[I  ]| "it does not seem to$4$ me one needs so$5#1$ many reasons
247:283,11[I  ]| for$4$ that$6#2$.  It is something to$9$ stay at home; this is
247:283,12[I  ]| much more important."  
247:283,12['  ]| It was not therefore with
247:283,13['  ]| a sense of doing anything very important that$3$ she
247:283,14['  ]| treated herself to$4$ another pilgrimage to$4$ Rome; she
247:283,15['  ]| had seen the place before and carefully inspected it;
247:283,16['  ]| her present act was simply a sign of familiarity, of her
247:283,17['  ]| knowing all about it, of her having as good a right as
247:283,18['  ]| any*one else to$9$ be there.  This was all very well, and
247:283,19['  ]| Henrietta was restless; she had a perfect right to$9$ be 
247:283,20['  ]| restless too, if one came to$4$ that$6#2$.  But she had after all
247:283,21['  ]| a better reason for$4$ coming to$4$ Rome than that$3$ she cared
247:283,22['  ]| for$4$ it so$5#1$ little.  Her friend easily recognised it, and with
247:283,23['  ]| it the worth of the other's fidelity.  She had crossed the 
247:283,24['  ]| stormy ocean in$4$ midwinter because she had guessed
247:283,25['  ]| that$3$ Isabel was sad.  Henrietta guessed a great deal,
247:283,26['  ]| but she had never guessed so$5#1$ happily as that$6#2$.  Isabel's
247:283,27['  ]| satisfactions just now were few, but even if they had
247:283,28['  ]| been more numerous there would still have been something
247:283,29['  ]| of individual joy in$4$ her sense of being justified
247:283,30['  ]| in$4$ having always thought highly of Henrietta.  She had
247:283,31['  ]| made large concessions with regard to$4$ her, and had yet
247:283,32['  ]| insisted that$3$, with all abatements, she was very valuable.
247:284,01['  ]| It was not her own triumph, however, that$6#1$ she 
247:284,02['  ]| found good; it was simply the relief of confessing to$4$
247:284,03['  ]| this confidant, the first person to$4$ whom she had owned
247:284,04['  ]| it, that$3$ she was not in$4$ the least at her ease.  Henrietta
247:284,05['  ]| had herself approached this point with the smallest
247:284,06['  ]| possible delay, and had accused her to$4$ her face of
247:284,07['  ]| being wretched.  She was a woman, she was a sister;
247:284,08['  ]| she was not Ralph, nor Lord*Warburton, nor Caspar*Goodwood,
247:284,09['  ]| and Isabel could speak.
247:284,10[A  ]| "Yes, I am wretched," 
247:284,10['  ]| she said very mildly.  She
247:284,11['  ]| hated to$9$ hear herself say it; she tried to$9$ say it as judicially
247:284,12['  ]| as possible.
247:284,13[I  ]| "What does he do to$4$ you?"  
247:284,13['  ]| Henrietta asked,
247:284,14['  ]| frowning as if she were enquiring into the operations
247:284,15['  ]| of a quack doctor.
247:284,16[A  ]| "He does nothing.  But he does not like$1$ me."
247:284,17[I  ]| "He is very hard to$9$ please!" 
247:284,17['  ]| cried Miss*Stackpole.
247:284,18[I  ]| "Why do not you leave him?"
247:284,19[A  ]| "I can not change that$6#2$ way," 
247:284,19['  ]| Isabel said.
247:284,20[I  ]| "Why not, I should like$1$ to$9$ know?  You will$1$ not
247:284,21[I  ]| confess that$3$ you have made a mistake.  You are too
247:284,22[I  ]| proud."
247:284,23[A  ]| "I do not know whether I am too proud.  But I can not
247:284,24[A  ]| publish my mistake.  I do not think that$6#2$ is decent.  I would
247:284,25[A  ]| much rather die."
247:284,26[I  ]| "You will$1$ not think so$5#2$ always," 
247:284,26['  ]| said Henrietta.
247:284,27[A  ]| "I do not know what great unhappiness might bring
247:284,28[A  ]| me to$4$; but it seems to$4$ me I shall always be ashamed.
247:284,29[A  ]| One must accept one's deeds.  I married him before
247:284,30[A  ]| all the world; I was perfectly free; it was impossible
247:284,31[A  ]| to$9$ do anything more deliberate.  One can not change
247:284,32[A  ]| that$6#2$ way," 
247:284,32['  ]| Isabel repeated.
247:285,01[I  ]| "You \have\ changed, in$4$ spite of the impossibility.
247:285,02[I  ]| I hope you do not mean to$9$ say you like$1$ him."
247:285,03['  ]| Isabel debated.  
247:285,03[A  ]| "No$7$, I do not like$1$ him.  I can tell
247:285,04[A  ]| you, because I am weary of my secret.  But that$6#2$ is
247:285,05[A  ]| enough; I can not announce it on$4$ the housetops."
247:285,06['  ]| Henrietta gave a laugh.  
247:285,06[I  ]| "Do not you think you are
247:285,07[I  ]| rather too considerate?"
247:285,08[A  ]| "It is not of him that$3$ I am considerate ~~ it is of 
247:285,09[A  ]| myself!" 
247:285,09['  ]| Isabel answered.
247:285,10['  ]| It was not surprising Gilbert*Osmond should not
247:285,11['  ]| have taken comfort in$4$ Miss*Stackpole; his instinct
247:285,12['  ]| had naturally set him in$4$ opposition to$4$ a young lady
247:285,13['  ]| capable of advising his wife to$9$ withdraw from the conjugal
247:285,14['  ]| roof.  When she arrived in$4$ Rome he had said to$4$
247:285,15['  ]| Isabel that$3$ 
247:285,15@c   | he hoped she would leave her friend the 
247:285,16@c   | interviewer alone; 
247:285,16['  ]| and Isabel had answered that$3$ 
247:285,16@a   | he
247:285,17@a   | at least had nothing to$9$ fear from her.  
247:285,17['  ]| She said to$4$ Henrietta
247:285,18['  ]| that$3$ 
247:285,18@a   | as Osmond did not like$1$ her she could not
247:285,19@a   | invite her to$9$ dine, but they could easily see each other
247:285,20@a   | in$4$ other ways.  
247:285,20['  ]| Isabel received Miss*Stackpole freely
247:285,21['  ]| in$4$ her own sitting-room, and took her repeatedly to$9$
247:285,22['  ]| drive, face to$4$ face with Pansy, who$6#1$, bending a little
247:285,23['  ]| forward, on$4$ the opposite seat of the carriage, gazed
247:285,24['  ]| at the celebrated authoress with a respectful attention
247:285,25['  ]| which$6#1$ Henrietta occasionally found irritating.  She
247:285,26['  ]| complained to$4$ Isabel that$3$ 
247:285,26@i   | Miss*Osmond had a little
247:285,27@i   | look as if she should remember everything one said.
247:285,28[I  ]| "I do not want to$9$ be remembered that$6#2$ way," 
247:285,28['  ]| Miss*Stackpole
247:285,29['  ]| declared; 
247:285,29[I  ]| "I consider that$3$ my conversation
247:285,30[I  ]| refers only to$4$ the moment, like$4$ the morning papers.
247:285,31[I  ]| Your stepdaughter, as she sits there, looks as if she
247:285,32[I  ]| kept all the back numbers and would bring them out
247:286,01[I  ]| some day against me."  
247:286,01['  ]| She could not teach herself to$9$
247:286,02['  ]| think favourably of Pansy, whose absence of initiative,
247:286,03['  ]| of conversation, of personal claims, seemed to$4$ her, in$4$
247:286,04['  ]| a girl of twenty, unnatural and even uncanny.  Isabel
247:286,05['  ]| presently saw that$3$ 
247:286,05@a   | Osmond would have liked her to$9$
247:286,06@a   | urge a little the cause of her friend, insist a little upon$4$
247:286,07@a   | his receiving her, so$3$ that$3$ he might appear to$9$ suffer for$4$
247:286,08@a   | good manners' sake.  Her immediate acceptance of
247:286,09@a   | his objections put him too much in$4$ the wrong ~~ 
247:286,09['  ]| it
247:286,10['  ]| being in$4$ effect one of the disadvantages of expressing
247:286,11['  ]| contempt that$3$ you cannot enjoy at the same time the 
247:286,12['  ]| credit of expressing sympathy.  Osmond held to$4$ his
247:286,13['  ]| credit, and yet he held to$4$ his objections ~~ all of which$6#1$
247:286,14['  ]| were elements difficult to$9$ reconcile.  The right thing
247:286,15['  ]| would have been that$3$ Miss*Stackpole should come to$9$ 
247:286,16['  ]| dine at Palazzo*Roccanera once or twice, so$3$ that$3$ (in$4$
247:286,17['  ]| spite of his superficial civility, always so$5#1$ great) she
247:286,18['  ]| might judge for$4$ herself how little pleasure it gave him.
247:286,19['  ]| From the moment, however, that$3$ both the ladies were
247:286,20['  ]| so$5#1$ unaccommodating, there was nothing for$4$ Osmond
247:286,21['  ]| but to$9$ wish the lady from New*York would take herself
247:286,22['  ]| off.  It was surprising how little satisfaction he
247:286,23['  ]| got from his wife's friends; he took occasion to$9$ call
247:286,24['  ]| Isabel's attention to$4$ it.
247:286,25[C  ]| "You are certainly not fortunate in$4$ your intimates;
247:286,26[C  ]| I wish you might make a new collection," 
247:286,26['  ]| he said
247:286,27['  ]| to$4$ her one morning in$4$ reference to$4$ nothing visible at
247:286,28['  ]| the moment, but in$4$ a tone of ripe reflection which$6#1$
247:286,29['  ]| deprived the remark of all brutal abruptness.  
247:286,29[C  ]| "It is
247:286,30[C  ]| as if you had taken the trouble to$9$ pick out the people
247:286,31[C  ]| in$4$ the world that$6#1$ I have least in$4$ common with.  Your
247:286,32[C  ]| cousin I have always thought a conceited ass ~~ besides
247:287,01[C  ]| his being the most ill-favoured animal I know.
247:287,02[C  ]| Then it is insufferably tiresome that$3$ one can not tell
247:287,03[C  ]| him so$5#2$; one must spare him on$4$ account of his health.
247:287,04[C  ]| His health seems to$4$ me the best part of him; it gives
247:287,05[C  ]| him privileges enjoyed by$4$ no*one else.  If he is so$5#1$
247:287,06[C  ]| desperately ill there is only one way to$9$ prove it; but
247:287,07[C  ]| he seems to$9$ have no$2$ mind for$4$ that$6#2$.  I can not say much
247:287,08[C  ]| more for$4$ the great Warburton.  When one really
247:287,09[C  ]| thinks of it, the cool insolence of that$6#2$ performance
247:287,10[C  ]| was something rare!  He comes and looks at one's
247:287,11[C  ]| daughter as if she were a suite of apartments; he
247:287,12[C  ]| tries the door-handles and looks out of the windows,
247:287,13[C  ]| raps on$4$ the walls and almost thinks he will$1$ take the
247:287,14[C  ]| place.  Will$1$ you be so$5#1$ good as to$9$ draw up$5$ a lease?
247:287,15[C  ]| Then, on$4$ the whole, he decides that$3$ the rooms are
247:287,16[C  ]| too small; he does not think he could live on$4$ a third
247:287,17[C  ]| floor; he must look out for$4$ a \8piano*nobile\.  And he
247:287,18[C  ]| goes away after having got a month's lodging in$4$ the 
247:287,19[C  ]| poor little apartment for$4$ nothing.  Miss*Stackpole,
247:287,20[C  ]| however, is your most wonderful invention.  She
247:287,21[C  ]| strikes me as a kind of monster.  One has not a nerve
247:287,22[C  ]| in$4$ one's body that$6#1$ she does not set quivering.  You
247:287,23[C  ]| know I never have admitted that$3$ she is a woman.
247:287,24[C  ]| Do you know what she reminds me of?  Of a new
247:287,25[C  ]| steel pen ~~ the most odious thing in$4$ nature.  She
247:287,26[C  ]| talks as a steel pen writes; are not her letters, by$4$ the
247:287,27[C  ]| way, on$4$ ruled paper?  She thinks and moves and 
247:287,28[C  ]| walks and looks exactly as she talks.  You may say
247:287,29[C  ]| that$3$ she does not hurt me, inasmuch as I do not see
247:287,30[C  ]| her.  I do not see her, but I hear her; I hear her all
247:287,31[C  ]| day long.  Her voice is in$4$ my ears; I can not get rid
247:287,32[C  ]| of it.  I know exactly what she says, and every inflexion
247:288,01[C  ]| of the tone in$4$ which$6#1$ she says it.  She says
247:288,02[C  ]| charming things about me, and they give you great
247:288,03[C  ]| comfort.  I do not like$1$ at all to$9$ think she talks about
247:288,04[C  ]| me ~~ I feel as I should feel if I knew the footman
247:288,05[C  ]| were wearing my hat."
247:288,06['  ]| Henrietta talked about Gilbert*Osmond, as his
247:288,07['  ]| wife assured him, rather less than he suspected.
247:288,08['  ]| She had plenty of other subjects, in$4$ two of which$6#1$
247:288,09['  ]| the reader may be supposed to$9$ be especially interested.
247:288,10['  ]| She let her friend know that$3$ Caspar*Goodwood
247:288,11['  ]| had discovered for$4$ himself that$3$ she was unhappy,
247:288,12['  ]| though indeed her ingenuity was unable to$9$
247:288,13['  ]| suggest what comfort he hoped to$9$ give her by$4$ coming
247:288,14['  ]| to$4$ Rome and yet not calling on$4$ her.  They met him
247:288,15['  ]| twice in$4$ the street, but he had no$2$ appearance of seeing
247:288,16['  ]| them; they were driving, and he had a habit of
247:288,17['  ]| looking straight in$4$ front of him, as if he proposed
247:288,18['  ]| to$9$ take in$4$ but one object at a time.  Isabel could
247:288,19['  ]| have fancied she had seen him the day before; 
247:288,19@a   | it
247:288,20@a   | must have been with just that$6#2$ face and step that$3$ he
247:288,21@a   | had walked out of Mrs%*Touchett's door at the close
247:288,22@a   | of their last interview.  He was dressed just as he
247:288,23@a   | had been dressed on$4$ that$6#2$ day, 
247:288,23['  ]| Isabel remembered
247:288,24['  ]| the colour of his cravat; and yet in$4$ spite of this familiar
247:288,25['  ]| look there was a strangeness in$4$ his figure too,
247:288,26['  ]| something that$6#1$ made her feel it afresh to$9$ be rather
247:288,27['  ]| terrible he should have come to$4$ Rome.  
247:288,27@a   | He looked
247:288,28@a   | bigger and more overtopping than of old, and in$4$
247:288,29@a   | those days he certainly reached high enough.  
247:288,29['  ]| She
247:288,30['  ]| noticed that$3$ 
247:288,30@a   | the people whom he passed looked back
247:288,31@a   | after him; but he went straight forward, lifting
247:288,32@a   | above them a face like$4$ a February sky.
247:289,01['  ]| Miss*Stackpole's other topic was very different;
247:289,02['  ]| she gave Isabel the latest news about Mr%*Bantling.
247:289,03@i   | He had been out in$4$ the United*States the year before,
247:289,04@i   | and she was happy to$9$ say she had been able
247:289,05@i   | to$9$ show him considerable attention.  She did not
247:289,06@i   | know how much he had enjoyed it, but she would
247:289,07@i   | undertake to$9$ say it had done him good; he was not
247:289,08@i   | the same man when he left as he had been when he
247:289,09@i   | came.  It had opened his eyes and shown him that$3$
247:289,10@i   | England was not everything.  He had been very much
247:289,11@i   | liked in$4$ most places, and thought extremely simple
247:289,12@i   | ~~ more simple than the English were commonly
247:289,13@i   | supposed to$9$ be.  There were people who$6#1$ had thought
247:289,14@i   | him affected; she did not know whether they meant
247:289,15@i   | that$3$ his simplicity was an affectation.  Some of his
247:289,16@i   | questions were too discouraging; he thought all
247:289,17@i   | the chambermaids were farmers' daughters ~~ or
247:289,18@i   | all the farmers' daughters were chambermaids ~~
247:289,19@i   | she could not exactly remember which$6#1$.  He had not
247:289,20@i   | seemed able to$9$ grasp the great school system; it
247:289,21@i   | had been really too much for$4$ him.  On$4$ the whole
247:289,22@i   | he had behaved as if there were too much of everything
247:289,23@i   | ~~ as if he could only take in$4$ a small part.
247:289,24@i   | The part he had chosen was the hotel system and
247:289,25@i   | the river navigation.  He had seemed really fascinated
247:289,26@i   | with the hotels; he had a photograph of every
247:289,27@i   | one he had visited.  But the river steamers were his
247:289,28@i   | principal interest; he wanted to$9$ do nothing but
247:289,29@i   | sail on$4$ the big boats.  They had travelled together
247:289,30@i   | from New*York to$4$ Milwaukee, stopping at the most
247:289,31@i   | interesting cities on$4$ the route; and whenever they
247:289,32@i   | started afresh he had wanted to$9$ know if they could
247:290,01@i   | go by$4$ the steamer.  He seemed to$9$ have no$2$ idea of
247:290,02@i   | geography ~~ had an impression that$3$ Baltimore was
247:290,03@i   | a Western city and was perpetually expecting to$9$ arrive
247:290,04@i   | at the Mississippi.  He appeared never to$9$ have heard
247:290,05@i   | of any river in$4$ America but the Mississippi and was
247:290,06@i   | unprepared to$9$ recognise the existence of the Hudson,
247:290,07@i   | though obliged to$9$ confess at last that$3$ it was fully
247:290,08@i   | equal to$4$ the Rhine.  They had spent some pleasant
247:290,09@i   | hours in$4$ the palace-cars; he was always ordering
247:290,10@i   | ice-cream from the coloured man.  He could never
247:290,11@i   | get used to$4$ that$6#2$ idea ~~ that$3$ you could get ice-cream
247:290,12@i   | in$4$ the cars.  Of course you could not, nor fans, nor
247:290,13@i   | candy, nor anything in$4$ the English cars!  He found
247:290,14@i   | the heat quite overwhelming, and she had told him
247:290,15@i   | she indeed expected it was the biggest he had ever
247:290,16@i   | experienced.  He was now in$4$ England, hunting ~~
247:290,17['  ]| "hunting round" Henrietta called it.  
247:290,17@i   | These amusements
247:290,18@i   | were those of the American red men; we had
247:290,19@i   | left that$6#2$ behind long ago, the pleasures of the chase.
247:290,20@i   | It seemed to$9$ be generally believed in$4$ England that$3$
247:290,21@i   | we wore tomahawks and feathers; but such a costume
247:290,22@i   | was more in$4$ keeping with English habits.
247:290,23@i   | Mr%*Bantling would not have time to$9$ join her in$4$
247:290,24@i   | Italy, but when she should go to$4$ Paris again he expected
247:290,25@i   | to$9$ come over.  He wanted very much to$9$ see
247:290,26@i   | Versailles again; he was very fond of the ancient
247:290,27@i   | \9re'gime\.  They did not agree about that$6#2$, but that$6#2$
247:290,28@i   | was what she liked Versailles for$4$, that$3$ you could see
247:290,29@i   | the ancient \9re'gime\ had been swept away.  There
247:290,30@i   | were no$2$ dukes and marquises there now; she remembered
247:290,31@i   | on$4$ the contrary one day when there were
247:290,32@i   | five American families, walking all round.  Mr%*Bantling
247:291,01@i   | was very anxious that$3$ she should take up$5$
247:291,02@i   | the subject of England again, and he thought she
247:291,03@i   | might get on$5$ better with it now;  England had changed
247:291,04@i   | a good deal within two or three years.  He was determined
247:291,05@i   | that$3$ if she went there he should go to$9$ see his
247:291,06@i   | sister, Lady*Pensil, and that$3$ this time the invitation
247:291,07@i   | should come to$4$ her straight.  The mystery about that$6#2$
247:291,08@i   | other one had never been explained.
247:291,09['  ]| Caspar*Goodwood came at last to$4$ Palazzo*Roccanera;
247:291,10['  ]| he had written Isabel a note beforehand,
247:291,11['  ]| to$9$ ask leave.  This was promptly granted;  
247:291,11@a   | she would
247:291,12@a   | be at home at six o'clock that$6#2$ afternoon.  
247:291,12['  ]| She spent
247:291,13['  ]| the day wondering 
247:291,13@a   | what he was coming for$4$ ~~ what 
247:291,14@a   | good he expected to$9$ get of it.  
247:291,14['  ]| He had presented 
247:291,15['  ]| himself hitherto as a person destitute of the faculty
247:291,16['  ]| of compromise, who$6#1$ would take what he had asked
247:291,17['  ]| for$4$ or take nothing.  Isabel's hospitality, however,
247:291,18['  ]| raised no$2$ questions, and she found no$2$ great difficulty
247:291,19['  ]| in$4$ appearing happy enough to$9$ deceive him.  It was
247:291,20['  ]| her conviction at least that$3$ 
247:291,20@a   | she deceived him, made
247:291,21@a   | him say to$4$ himself that$3$ he had been misinformed.
247:291,22['  ]| But she also saw, so$5#2$ she believed, that$3$ 
247:291,22@a   | he was not
247:291,23@a   | disappointed, as some other men, she was sure,
247:291,24@a   | would have been;  he had not come to$4$ Rome to$9$ look
247:291,25@a   | for$4$ an opportunity.  She never found out what he
247:291,26@a   | had come for$4$;  he offered her no$2$ explanation;  there
247:291,27@a   | could be none but the very simple one that$3$ he wanted
247:291,28@a   | to$9$ see her.  In$4$ other words he had come for$4$ his amusement.
247:291,29['  ]| Isabel followed up$5$ this induction with a good
247:291,30['  ]| deal of eagerness, and was delighted to$9$ have found
247:291,31['  ]| a formula that$6#1$ would lay the ghost of this gentleman's
247:291,32['  ]| ancient grievance.  
247:291,32@a   | If he had come to$4$ Rome
247:292,01@a   | for$4$ his amusement this was exactly what she wanted;
247:292,02@a   | for$3$ if he cared for$4$ amusement he had got over his
247:292,03@a   | heartache.  If he had got over his heartache everything
247:292,04@a   | was as it should be and her responsibilities
247:292,05@a   | were at an end.  It was true that$3$ he took his recreation
247:292,06@a   | a little stiffly, but he had never been loose and
247:292,07@a   | easy and she had every reason to$9$ believe he was
247:292,08@a   | satisfied with what he saw.  
247:292,08['  ]| Henrietta was not in$4$ his
247:292,09['  ]| confidence, though he was in$4$ hers, and Isabel consequently
247:292,10['  ]| received no$2$ side-light upon$4$ his state of
247:292,11['  ]| mind.  He was open to$4$ little conversation on$4$ general
247:292,12['  ]| topics;  it came back to$4$ her that$3$ 
247:292,12@a   | she had said of him
247:292,13@a   | once, years before, "Mr%*Goodwood speaks a good
247:292,14@a   | deal, but he does not talk."  He spoke a good deal
247:292,15@a   | now, but he talked perhaps as little as ever; considering,
247:292,16@a   | that$6#2$ is, how much there was in$4$ Rome to$9$
247:292,17@a   | talk about.  
247:292,17['  ]| His arrival was not calculated to$9$ simplify
247:292,18['  ]| her relations with her husband, for$3$ 
247:292,18@a   | if Mr%*Osmond
247:292,19@a   | did not like$1$ her friends Mr%*Goodwood had no$2$ claim
247:292,20@a   | upon$4$ his attention save as having been one of the
247:292,21@a   | first of them.  There was nothing for$4$ her to$9$ say of
247:292,22@a   | him but that$3$ he was the very oldest;  
247:292,22['  ]| this rather
247:292,23['  ]| meagre synthesis exhausted the facts.  
247:292,23@a   | She had been
247:292,24@a   | obliged to$9$ introduce him to$4$ Gilbert;  it was impossible
247:292,25@a   | she should not ask him to$4$ dinner, to$4$ her Thursday
247:292,26@a   | evenings, of which$6#1$ she had grown very weary,
247:292,27@a   | but to$4$ which$6#1$ her husband still held for$4$ the sake not
247:292,28@a   | so$5#1$ much of inviting people as of not inviting them.
247:292,29['  ]| To$4$ the Thursdays Mr%*Goodwood came regularly,
247:292,30['  ]| solemnly, rather early;  he appeared to$9$ regard them
247:292,31['  ]| with a good deal of gravity.  Isabel every now and
247:292,32['  ]| then had a moment of anger;  there was something
247:293,01['  ]| so$5#1$ literal about him;  she thought 
247:293,01@a   | he might know
247:293,02@a   | that$3$ she did not know what to$9$ do with him.  But she
247:293,03@a   | could not call him stupid;  he was not that$6#2$ in$4$ the least;
247:293,04@a   | he was only extraordinarily honest.  To$9$ be as honest
247:293,05@a   | as that$6#2$ made a man very different from most people;
247:293,06@a   | one had to$9$ be almost equally honest with \him\.  
247:293,06['  ]| She
247:293,07['  ]| made this latter reflection at the very time she was flattering
247:293,08['  ]| herself she had persuaded him that$3$ she was the
247:293,09['  ]| most light-hearted of women.  He never threw any
247:293,10['  ]| doubt on$4$ this point, never asked her any personal
247:293,11['  ]| questions.  He got on$5$ much better with Osmond
247:293,12['  ]| than had seemed probable.  Osmond had a great
247:293,13['  ]| dislike to$4$ being counted on$5$;  in$4$ such a case he had an
247:293,14['  ]| irresistible need of disappointing you.  It was in$4$ virtue
247:293,15['  ]| of this principle that$3$ he gave himself the entertainment
247:293,16['  ]| of taking a fancy to$4$ a perpendicular Bostonian
247:293,17['  ]| whom he had been depended upon$5$ to$9$ treat
247:293,18['  ]| with coldness.  He asked Isabel 
247:293,18@c   | if Mr%*Goodwood
247:293,19@c   | also had wanted to$9$ marry her, 
247:293,19['  ]| and expressed surprise
247:293,20['  ]| at her not having accepted him.  
247:293,20@c   | It would have
247:293,21@c   | been an excellent thing, like$4$ living under some tall
247:293,22@c   | belfry which$6#1$ would strike all the hours and make a
247:293,23@c   | queer vibration in$4$ the upper air.  
247:293,23['  ]| He declared 
247:293,23@c   | he
247:293,24@c   | liked to$9$ talk with the great Goodwood; it was not
247:293,25@c   | easy at first, you had to$9$ climb up$4$ an interminable
247:293,26@c   | steep staircase, up$5$ to$4$ the top of the tower;  but when
247:293,27@c   | you got there you had a big view and felt a little fresh
247:293,28@c   | breeze.  
247:293,28['  ]| Osmond, as we know, had delightful qualities,
247:293,29['  ]| and he gave Caspar*Goodwood the benefit of
247:293,30['  ]| them all.  Isabel could see that$3$ Mr%*Goodwood
247:293,31['  ]| thought better of her husband than he had ever
247:293,32['  ]| wished to$9$; he had given her the impression that$6#2$
247:294,01['  ]| morning in$4$ Florence of being inaccessible to$4$ a good
247:294,02['  ]| impression.  Gilbert asked him repeatedly to$4$ dinner,
247:294,03['  ]| and Mr%*Goodwood smoked a cigar with him afterwards
247:294,04['  ]| and even desired to$9$ be shown his collections.
247:294,05['  ]| Gilbert said to$4$ Isabel that$3$ 
247:294,05@c   | he was very original; he
247:294,06@c   | was as strong and of as good a style as an English
247:294,07@c   | portmanteau, ~~ he had plenty of straps and buckles
247:294,08@c   | which$6#1$ would never wear out, and a capital patent
247:294,09@c   | lock.  
247:294,04['  ]| Caspar*Goodwood took to$4$ riding on$4$ the Campagna 
247:294,10['  ]| and devoted much time to$4$ this exercise;  it
247:294,11['  ]| was therefore mainly in$4$ the evening that$3$ Isabel saw
247:294,12['  ]| him.  She bethought herself of saying to$4$ him one day
247:294,13['  ]| that$3$ if he were willing he could render her a service.
247:294,14['  ]| And then she added smiling:
247:294,15[A  ]| "I do not know, however, what right I have to$9$ ask
247:294,16[A  ]| a service of you."
247:294,17[E  ]| "You are the person in$4$ the world who$6#1$ has most
247:294,18[E  ]| right," 
247:294,18['  ]| he answered.  
247:294,18[E  ]| "I have given you assurances
247:294,19[E  ]| that$3$ I have never given any*one else."
247:294,20['  ]| The service was that$3$ 
247:294,20@a   | he should go and see her cousin
247:294,21@a   | Ralph, who$6#1$ was ill at the Ho^tel*de*Paris, alone,
247:294,22@a   | and be as kind to$4$ him as possible.  Mr%*Goodwood
247:294,23@a   | had never seen him, but he would know who$6#1$ the poor
247:294,24@a   | fellow was;  if she was not mistaken Ralph had once
247:294,25@a   | invited him to$4$ Gardencourt.  
247:294,25['  ]| Caspar remembered
247:294,26['  ]| the invitation perfectly, and, though he was not
247:294,27['  ]| supposed to$9$ be a man of imagination, had enough
247:294,28['  ]| to$9$ put himself in$4$ the place of a poor gentleman who$6#1$
247:294,29['  ]| lay dying at a Roman inn.  He called at the Ho^tel*de*Paris 
247:294,30['  ]| and, on$4$ being shown into the presence of
247:294,31['  ]| the master of Gardencourt, found Miss*Stackpole
247:294,32['  ]| sitting beside his sofa.  A singular change had in$4$ fact
247:295,01['  ]| occurred in$4$ this lady's relations with Ralph*Touchett.
247:295,02['  ]| She had not been asked by$4$ Isabel to$9$ go and see him,
247:295,03['  ]| but on$4$ hearing that$3$ he was too ill to$9$ come out had
247:295,04['  ]| immediately gone of her own motion.  After this
247:295,05['  ]| she had paid him a daily visit ~~ always under the
247:295,06['  ]| conviction that$3$ they were great enemies.  
247:295,06[B  ]| "Oh yes,
247:295,07[B  ]| we are intimate enemies,"  
247:295,07['  ]| Ralph used to$9$ say;  and he
247:295,08['  ]| accused her freely ~~ as freely as the humour of it
247:295,09['  ]| would allow ~~ 
247:295,09@b   | of coming to$9$ worry him to$4$ death.
247:295,10['  ]| In$4$ reality they became excellent friends, Henrietta
247:295,11['  ]| much wondering that$3$ 
247:295,11@i   | she should never have liked
247:295,12@i   | him before.  
247:295,12['  ]| Ralph liked her exactly as much as he
247:295,13['  ]| had always done;  
247:295,13@b   | he had never doubted for$4$ a moment
247:295,14@b   | that$3$ she was an excellent fellow.  
247:295,14['  ]| They talked
247:295,15['  ]| about everything and always differed;  about everything,
247:295,16['  ]| that$6#2$ is, but Isabel ~~ a topic as to$4$ which$6#1$ Ralph
247:295,17['  ]| always had a thin forefinger on$4$ his lips.  Mr%*Bantling 
247:295,18['  ]| on$4$ the other hand proved a great resource;  Ralph
247:295,19['  ]| was capable of discussing Mr%*Bantling with Henrietta
247:295,20['  ]| for$4$ hours.  Discussion was stimulated of course
247:295,21['  ]| by$4$ their inevitable difference of view ~~ Ralph having
247:295,22['  ]| amused himself with taking the ground that$3$
247:295,23['  ]| the genial ex-Guardsman was a regular Machiavelli.
247:295,24['  ]| Caspar Goodwood could contribute nothing to$4$ such
247:295,25['  ]| a debate;  but after he had been left alone with his
247:295,26['  ]| host he found there were various other matters they
247:295,27['  ]| could take up$5$.  It must be admitted that$3$ the lady
247:295,28['  ]| who$6#1$ had just gone out was not one of these;  Caspar
247:295,29['  ]| granted all Miss*Stackpole's merits in$4$ advance, but
247:295,30['  ]| had no$2$ further remark to$9$ make about her.  Neither,
247:295,31['  ]| after the first allusions, did the two men expatiate
247:295,32['  ]| upon$4$ Mrs%*Osmond ~~ a theme in$4$ which$6#1$ Goodwood
247:296,01['  ]| perceived as many dangers as Ralph.  He felt very
247:296,02['  ]| sorry for$4$ that$6#2$ unclassable personage;  he could not
247:296,03['  ]| bear to$9$ see a pleasant man, so$5#1$ pleasant for$4$ all his
247:296,04['  ]| queerness, so$5#1$ beyond anything to$9$ be done.  There
247:296,05['  ]| was always something to$9$ be done, for$4$ Goodwood,
247:296,06['  ]| and he did it in$4$ this case by$4$ repeating several times
247:296,07['  ]| his visit to$4$ the Ho^tel de Paris.  It seemed to$4$ Isabel
247:296,08['  ]| that$3$ she had been very clever;  she had artfully disposed
247:296,09['  ]| of the superfluous Caspar.  She had given him
247:296,10['  ]| an occupation;  she had converted him into a caretaker
247:296,11['  ]| of Ralph.  She had a plan of making him travel
247:296,12['  ]| northward with her cousin as soon as the first mild
247:296,13['  ]| weather should allow it.  Lord*Warburton had
247:296,14['  ]| brought Ralph to$4$ Rome and Mr%*Goodwood should
247:296,15['  ]| take him away.  There seemed a happy symmetry
247:296,16['  ]| in$4$ this, and she was now intensely eager that$3$ Ralph
247:296,17['  ]| should depart.  She had a constant fear he would
247:296,18['  ]| die there before her eyes and a horror of the occurrence
247:296,19['  ]| of this event an an inn, by$4$ her door, which$6#1$ he
247:296,20['  ]| had so$5#1$ rarely entered.  
247:296,20@a   | Ralph must sink to$4$ his last
247:296,21@a   | rest in$4$ his own dear house, in$4$ one of those deep,
247:296,22@a   | dim chambers of Gardencourt where the dark ivy
247:296,23@a   | would cluster round the edges of the glimmering
247:296,24@a   | window.  
247:296,24['  ]| There seemed to$4$ Isabel in$4$ these days
247:296,25['  ]| something sacred in$4$ Gardencourt;  no$2$ chapter of
247:296,26['  ]| the past was more perfectly irrecoverable.  When
247:296,27['  ]| she thought of the months she had spent there the
247:296,28['  ]| tears rose to$4$ her eyes.  She flattered herself, as I say,
247:296,29['  ]| upon$4$ her ingenuity, but she had need of all she could
247:296,30['  ]| muster; for$3$ several events occurred which$6#1$ seemed
247:296,31['  ]| to$9$ confront and defy her.  The Countess*Gemini
247:296,32['  ]| arrived from Florence ~~ arrived with her trunks,
247:297,01['  ]| her dresses, her chatter, her falsehoods, her frivolity,
247:297,02['  ]| the strange, the unholy legend of the number of her
247:297,03['  ]| lovers.  Edward*Rosier, who$6#1$ had been away somewhere,
247:297,04['  ]| ~~ no*one, not even Pansy, knew where, ~~
247:297,05['  ]| reappeared in$4$ Rome and began to$9$ write her long
247:297,06['  ]| letters, which$6#1$ she never answered.  Madame*Merle
247:297,07['  ]| returned from Naples and said to$4$ her with a strange
247:297,08['  ]| smile:
247:297,08[H  ]| "What on$4$ earth did you do with Lord*Warburton?"
247:297,09[H  ]|  
247:297,09@a   | As if it were any business of hers!
248:298,01['  ]| One day, toward the end of February, Ralph*Touchett
248:298,02['  ]| made up$5$ his mind to$9$ return to$4$ England.  He had
248:298,03['  ]| his own reasons for$4$ this decision, which$6#1$ he was not
248:298,04['  ]| bound to$9$ communicate; but Henrietta*Stackpole, to$4$
248:298,05['  ]| whom he mentioned his intention, flattered herself
248:298,06['  ]| that$3$ she guessed them.  She forbore to$9$ express them,
248:298,07['  ]| however; she only said, after a moment, as she sat by$4$
248:298,08['  ]| his sofa:
248:298,08[I  ]| "I suppose you know you can not go alone?"
248:298,09[B  ]| "I have no$2$ idea of doing that$6#2$,"  
248:298,09['  ]| Ralph answered.  
248:298,09[B  ]| "I
248:298,10[B  ]| shall have people with me."
248:298,11[I  ]| "What do you mean by$4$ ""people""?  Servants whom
248:298,12[I  ]| you pay?"
248:298,13[B  ]| "Ah," 
248:298,13['  ]| said Ralph jocosely, 
248:298,13[B  ]| "after all, they are human
248:298,14[B  ]| beings."
248:298,15[I  ]| "Are there any women among them?"  
248:298,15['  ]| Miss*Stackpole
248:298,16['  ]| desired to$9$ know.
248:298,17[B  ]| "You speak as if I had a dozen!  No$7$, I confess
248:298,18[B  ]| I have not a 9soubrette in$4$ my employment."
248:298,19[I  ]| "Well," 
248:298,19['  ]| said Henrietta calmly, 
248:298,19[I  ]| "you can not go to$4$
248:298,20[I  ]| England that$6#2$ way.  You must have a woman's care."
248:298,21[B  ]| "I have had so$5#1$ much of yours for$4$ the past fortnight
248:298,22[B  ]| that$3$ it will$1$ last me a good while."
248:298,23[I  ]| "You have not had enough of it yet.  I guess I will$1$
248:298,24[I  ]| go with you," 
248:298,24['  ]| said Henrietta.
248:298,25[B  ]| "Go with me?"  
248:298,25['  ]| Ralph slowly raised himself from
248:298,26['  ]| his sofa.
248:298,27[I  ]| "Yes, I know you do not like$1$ me, but I will$1$ go with
248:299,01[I  ]| all the same.  It would be better for$4$ your health
248:299,02[I  ]| to$9$ lie down again."
248:299,03['  ]| Ralph looked at her a little; then he slowly relapsed.
248:299,04[B  ]| "I like$1$ you very much," 
248:299,04['  ]| he said in$4$ a moment.
248:299,05['  ]| Miss*Stackpole gave one of her infrequent laughs.
248:299,06[I  ]| "You need not think that$3$ by$4$ saying that$6#2$ you can buy
248:299,07[I  ]| me off, I will$1$ go with you, and what is more I will$1$ take
248:299,08[I  ]| care of you."
248:299,09[B  ]| "You are a very good woman," 
248:299,09['  ]| said Ralph.
248:299,10[I  ]| "Wait till I get you safely home before you say
248:299,11[I  ]| that$6#2$.  It will$1$ not be easy.  But you had better go, all
248:299,12[I  ]| the same."
248:299,13['  ]| Before she left him, Ralph said to$4$ her:
248:299,13[B  ]| "Do you
248:299,14[B  ]| really mean to$9$ take care of me?"
248:299,15[I  ]| "Well, I mean to$9$ try."
248:299,16[B  ]| "I notify you then that$3$ I submit.  Oh, I submit!"
248:299,17['  ]| And it was perhaps a sign of submission that$3$ a few 
248:299,18['  ]| minutes after she had left him alone he burst into a
248:299,19['  ]| loud fit of laughter.  It seemed to$4$ him so$5#1$ inconsequent,
248:299,20['  ]| such a conclusive proof of his having abdicated all
248:299,21['  ]| functions and renounced all exercise, that$3$ he should
248:299,22['  ]| start on$4$ a journey across Europe under the supervision
248:299,23['  ]| of Miss*Stackpole.  And the great oddity was that$3$ the 
248:299,24['  ]| prospect pleased him; he was gratefully, luxuriously
248:299,25['  ]| passive.  He felt even impatient to$9$ start; and indeed
248:299,26['  ]| he had an immense longing to$9$ see his own house again.
248:299,27['  ]| The end of everything was at hand; it seemed to$4$ him
248:299,28['  ]| he could stretch out his arm and touch the goal.  But
248:299,29['  ]| he wanted to$9$ die at home; it was the only wish he had
248:299,30['  ]| left ~~ to$9$ extend himself in$4$ the large quiet room where
248:299,31['  ]| he had last seen his father lie, and close his eyes upon$4$
248:299,32['  ]| the summer dawn.
248:300,01['  ]| That$6#2$ same day Caspar*Goodwood came to$9$ see him,
248:300,02['  ]| and he informed his visitor that$3$ 
248:300,02@b   | Miss*Stackpole had
248:300,03@b   | taken him up$5$ and was to$9$ conduct him back to$4$ England.
248:300,04[E  ]| "Ah then,"
248:300,04['  ]| said Caspar, 
248:300,04[E  ]| "I am afraid I shall
248:300,05[E  ]| be a fifth wheel to$4$ the coach.  Mrs%*Osmond has made
248:300,06[E  ]| \me\ promise to$9$ go with you."
248:300,07[B  ]| "Good Heavens ~~ it is the golden age!  You are all
248:300,08[B  ]| too kind."
248:300,09[E  ]| "The kindness on$4$ my part is to$4$ her; it is hardly
248:300,10[E  ]| to$4$ you."
248:300,11[B  ]| "Granting that$6#2$, \she is\ kind,"
248:300,11['  ]| smiled Ralph.
248:300,12[E  ]| "To$9$ get people to$9$ go with you?  Yes, that$6#2$ is a sort
248:300,13[E  ]| of kindness," 
248:300,13['  ]| Goodwood answered without lending
248:300,14['  ]| himself to$4$ the joke.  
248:300,14[E  ]| "For$4$ myself, however," 
248:300,14['  ]| he
248:300,15['  ]| added, 
248:300,15[E  ]| "I will$1$ go so$5#1$ far as to$9$ say that$3$ I would much
248:300,16[E  ]| rather travel with you and Miss*Stackpole than with
248:300,17[E  ]| Miss*Stackpole alone."
248:300,18[B  ]| "And you would rather stay here than do either," 
248:300,18['  ]| said
248:300,19['  ]| Ralph.  
248:300,19[B  ]| "There is really no$2$ need of your coming.
248:300,20[B  ]| Henrietta is extraordinarily efficient."
248:300,21[E  ]| "I am sure of that$6#2$.  But I have promised Mrs%*Osmond."
248:300,22[E  ]|
248:300,23[B  ]| "You can easily get her to$9$ let you off."
248:300,24[E  ]| "She would not let me off for$4$ the world.  She wants
248:300,25[E  ]| me to$9$ look after you, but that$6#2$ is not the principal thing.
248:300,26[E  ]| The principal thing is that$3$ she wants me to$9$ leave
248:300,27[E  ]| Rome."
248:300,28[B  ]| "Ah, you see too much in$4$ it," 
248:300,28['  ]| Ralph suggested.
248:300,29[E  ]| "I bore her," 
248:300,29['  ]| Goodwood went on$5$; 
248:300,29[E  ]| "she has nothing
248:300,30[E  ]| to$9$ say to$4$ me, so$3$ she invented that$6#2$."
248:300,31[B  ]| "Oh then, if it is a convenience to$4$ her I certainly
248:300,32[B  ]| will$1$ take you with me.  Though I do not see why it
248:301,01[B  ]| should be a convenience," 
248:301,01['  ]| Ralph added in$4$ a moment.
248:301,02['  ]|
248:301,03[E  ]| "Well," 
248:301,03['  ]| said Caspar*Goodwood simply, 
248:301,03[E  ]| "she
248:301,04[E  ]| thinks I am watching her."
248:301,05[B  ]| "Watching her?"
248:301,06[E  ]| "Trying to$9$ make out if she is happy."
248:301,07[B  ]| "That$6#2$ is easy to$9$ make out," 
248:301,07['  ]| said Ralph.  
248:301,07[B  ]| "She is
248:301,08[B  ]| the most visibly happy woman I know."
248:301,09[E  ]| "Exactly so$5#2$; I am satisfied,"  
248:301,09['  ]| Goodwood answered
248:301,10['  ]| dryly.  For$4$ all his dryness, however, he had more to$9$
248:301,11['  ]| say.  
248:301,11[E  ]| "I have been watching her; I was an old friend
248:301,12[E  ]| and it seemed to$4$ me I had the right.  She pretends to$9$
248:301,13[E  ]| be happy; that$6#2$ was what she undertook to$9$ be; and I
248:301,14[E  ]| thought I should  like$1$ to$9$ see for$4$ myself what it amounts
248:301,15[E  ]| to$4$.  I have seen,"  
248:301,15['  ]| he continued with a harsh ring in$4$ his
248:301,16['  ]| voice, 
248:301,16[E  ]| "and I do not want to$9$ see any more.  I am now
248:301,17[E  ]| quite ready to$9$ go."
248:301,18[B  ]| "Do you know it strikes me as about time you
248:301,19[B  ]| should?" 
248:301,19['  ]| Ralph rejoined.  And this was the only
248:301,20['  ]| conversation these gentlemen had about Isabel*Osmond.
248:301,21['  ]|
248:301,22['  ]| Henrietta made her preparations for$4$ departure, and
248:301,23['  ]| among them she found it proper to$9$ say a few words to$4$
248:301,24['  ]| the Countess*Gemini, who$6#1$ returned at Miss*Stackpole's
248:301,25['  ]| \9pension\ the visit which$6#1$ this lady had paid her
248:301,26['  ]| in$4$ Florence.
248:301,27[I  ]| "You were very wrong about Lord*Warburton,"
248:301,28['  ]| she remarked to$4$ the Countess.  
248:301,28[I  ]| "I think it right you
248:301,29[I  ]| should know that$6#2$."
248:301,30[J  ]| "About his making love to$4$ Isabel?  My poor lady,
248:301,31[J  ]| he was at her house three times a day.  He has left
248:301,32[J  ]| traces of his passage!" 
248:301,32['  ]| the Countess cried.
248:302,01[I  ]| "He wished to$9$ marry your niece; that$6#2$ is why he
248:302,02[I  ]| came to$4$ the house."
248:302,03['  ]| The Countess stared, and then with an inconsiderate 
248:302,04['  ]| laugh:
248:302,04[J  ]| "Is that$6#2$ the story Isabel tells?  It is not
248:302,05[J  ]| bad, as such things go.  If he wishes to$9$ marry my niece,
248:302,06[J  ]| pray why does not he do it?  Perhaps he has gone to$9$
248:302,07[J  ]| buy the wedding-ring and will$1$ come back with it next
248:302,08[J  ]| month, after I am gone."
248:302,09[I  ]| "No$7$, he will$1$ not come back.  Miss*Osmond does not
248:302,10[I  ]| wish to$9$ marry him."
248:302,11[J  ]| "She is very accommodating!  I knew she was fond
248:302,12[J  ]| of Isabel, but did not know she carried it so$5#1$ far."
248:302,13[I  ]| "I do not understand you," 
248:302,13['  ]| said Henrietta coldly,
248:302,14['  ]| and reflecting that$3$ the Countess was unpleasantly
248:302,15['  ]| perverse.  
248:302,15[I  ]| "I really must stick to$4$ my point ~~ that$3$
248:302,16[I  ]| Isabel never encouraged the attentions of Lord*Warburton."
248:302,17[I  ]|
248:302,18[J  ]| "My dear friend, what do you and I know about 
248:302,19[J  ]| it?  All we know is that$3$ my brother is capable of
248:302,20[J  ]| everything."
248:302,21[I  ]| "I do not know what your brother is capable of,"
248:302,22['  ]| said Henrietta with dignity.
248:302,23[J  ]| "It is not her encouraging Warburton that$6#1$ I complain
248:302,24[J  ]| of; it is her sending him away.  I want particularly
248:302,25[J  ]| to$9$ see him.  Do you suppose she thought I would
248:302,26[J  ]| make him faithless?"  
248:302,26['  ]| the Countess continued with
248:302,27['  ]| audacious insistence.  
248:302,27[J  ]| "However, she is only keeping
248:302,28[J  ]| him, one can feel that$6#2$.  The house is full of him there;
248:302,29[J  ]| he is quite in$4$ the air.  Oh yes, he has left traces; I am
248:302,30[J  ]| sure I shall see him yet."
248:302,31[I  ]| "Well," 
248:302,31['  ]| said Henrietta after a little, with one of
248:302,32['  ]| those inspirations which$6#1$ had made the fortune of her
248:303,01['  ]| letters to$4$ the \Interviewer\, 
248:303,01[I  ]| "perhaps he will$1$ be more
248:303,02[I  ]| successful with you than with Isabel!"
248:303,03['  ]| When she told her friend of the offer she had made
248:303,04['  ]| Ralph Isabel replied that$3$ 
248:303,04@a   | she could have done nothing
248:303,05@a   | that$6#1$ would have pleased her more.  It had
248:303,06@a   | always been her faith that$3$ at bottom Ralph and
248:303,07@a   | this young woman were made to$9$ understand each
248:303,08@a   | other.  
248:303,08[I  ]| "I do not care whether he understands me or
248:303,09[I  ]| not," 
248:303,09['  ]| Henrietta declared.  
248:303,09[I  ]| "The great thing is that$3$
248:303,10[I  ]| he should not die in$4$ the cars."
248:303,11[A  ]| "He will$1$ not do that$6#2$," 
248:303,11['  ]| Isabel said, shaking her head
248:303,12['  ]| with an extension of faith.
248:303,13[I  ]| "He will$1$ not if I can help it.  I see you want us all
248:303,14[I  ]| to$9$ go.  I do not know what you want to$9$ do."
248:303,15[A  ]| "I want to$9$ be alone," 
248:303,15['  ]| said Isabel.
248:303,16[I  ]| "You will$1$ not be that$6#2$ so$5#1$ long as you have so$5#1$ much company 
248:303,17[I  ]| at home."
248:303,18[A  ]| "Ah, they are part of the comedy.  You others are
248:303,19[A  ]| spectators."
248:303,20[I  ]| "Do you call it a comedy, Isabel*Archer?"  
248:303,20['  ]| Henrietta
248:303,21['  ]| rather grimly asked.
248:303,22[A  ]| "The tragedy then if you like$1$.  You are all looking
248:303,23[A  ]| at me; it makes me uncomfortable."
248:303,24['  ]| Henrietta engaged in$4$ this act for$4$ a while.  
248:303,24[I  ]| "You are
248:303,25[I  ]| like$4$ the stricken deer, seeking the innermost shade.
248:303,26[I  ]| Oh, you do give me such a sense of helplessness!" 
248:303,26['  ]| she
248:303,27['  ]| broke out.
248:303,28[A  ]| "I am not at all helpless.  There are many things
248:303,29[A  ]| I mean to$9$ do."
248:303,30[I  ]| "It is not you I am speaking of; it is myself.  It is
248:303,31[I  ]| too much, having come on$4$ purpose, to$9$ leave you just
248:303,32[I  ]| as I find you."
248:304,01[A  ]| "You do not do that$6#2$; you leave me much refreshed,"
248:304,02['  ]| Isabel said.
248:304,03[I  ]| "Very mild refreshment ~~ sour lemonade!  I want
248:304,04[I  ]| you to$9$ promise me something."
248:304,05[A  ]| "I can not do that$6#2$.  I shall never make another promise.
248:304,06[A  ]| I made such a solemn one four years ago, and
248:304,07[A  ]| I have succeeded so$5#1$ ill in$4$ keeping it."
248:304,08[I  ]| "You have had no$2$ encouragement.  In$4$ this case I 
248:304,09[I  ]| should give you the greatest.  Leave your husband
248:304,10[I  ]| before the worst comes; that$6#2$ is what I want you to$9$
248:304,11[I  ]| promise."
248:304,12[A  ]| "The worst?  What do you call the worst?"
248:304,13[I  ]| "Before your character gets spoiled."
248:304,14[A  ]| "Do you mean my disposition?  It will$1$ not get
248:304,15[A  ]| spoiled," 
248:304,15['  ]| Isabel answered, smiling.  
248:304,15[A  ]| "I am taking
248:304,16[A  ]| very good care of it.  I am extremely struck,"  
248:304,16['  ]| she
248:304,17['  ]| added, turning away, 
248:304,17[A  ]| "with the off-hand way in$4$
248:304,18[A  ]| which$6#1$ you speak of a woman's leaving her husband.
248:304,19[A  ]| It is easy to$9$ see you have never had one!"
248:304,20[I  ]| "Well," 
248:304,20['  ]| said Henrietta as if she were beginning
248:304,21['  ]| an argument, 
248:304,21[I  ]| "nothing is more common in$4$ our
248:304,22[I  ]| Western cities, and it is to$4$ them, after all, that$3$ we
248:304,23[I  ]| must look in$4$ the future."  
248:304,23['  ]| Her argument, however,
248:304,24['  ]| does not concern this history, which$6#1$ has too many
248:304,25['  ]| other threads to$9$ unwind.  She announced to$4$ Ralph*Touchett
248:304,26['  ]| that$3$ 
248:304,26@i   | she was ready to$9$ leave Rome by$4$ any
248:304,27@i   | train he might designate, 
248:304,27['  ]| and Ralph immediately
248:304,28['  ]| pulled himself together for$4$ departure.  Isabel went
248:304,29['  ]| to$9$ see him at the last, and he made the same remark
248:304,30['  ]| that$6#1$ Henrietta had made. It struck him that$3$ 
248:304,30@b   | Isabel
248:304,31@b   | was uncommonly glad to$9$ get rid of them all.
248:304,32['  ]| For$4$ all answer to$4$ this she gently laid her hand on$4$
248:305,01['  ]| his, and said in$4$ a low tone, with a quick smile:
248:305,02[A  ]| "My dear Ralph ~~ !"
248:305,03['  ]| It was answer enough, and he was quite contented.
248:305,04['  ]| But he went on$5$ in$4$ the same way, jocosely, ingenuously:
248:305,05[B  ]| "I have seen less of you than I might, but it is
248:305,06[B  ]| better than nothing.  And then I have heard a great
248:305,07[B  ]| deal about you."
248:305,08[A  ]| "I do not know from whom, leading the life you have
248:305,09[A  ]| done."
248:305,10[B  ]| "From the voices of the air!  Oh, from no*one
248:305,11[B  ]| else; I never let other people speak of you.  They
248:305,12[B  ]| always say you are ""charming,"" and that$6#2$ is so$5#1$ flat."
248:305,13[A  ]| "I might have seen more of you certainly," 
248:305,13['  ]| Isabel
248:305,14['  ]| said.  
248:305,14[A  ]| "But when one is married one has so$5#1$ much
248:305,15[A  ]| occupation."
248:305,16[B  ]| "Fortunately I am not married.  When you come
248:305,17[B  ]| to$9$ see me in$4$ England I shall be able to$9$ entertain
248:305,18[B  ]| you with all the freedom of a bachelor."  
248:305,18['  ]| He continued
248:305,19['  ]| to$9$ talk as if they should certainly meet again,
248:305,20['  ]| and succeeded in$4$ making the assumption appear
248:305,21['  ]| almost just.  He made no$2$ allusion to$4$ his term being
248:305,22['  ]| near, to$4$ the probability that$3$ he should not outlast
248:305,23['  ]| the summer.  If he preferred it so$5#2$, Isabel was
248:305,24['  ]| willing enough; the reality was sufficiently distinct
248:305,25['  ]| without their erecting finger-posts in$4$ conversation.
248:305,26['  ]| That$6#2$ had been well enough for$4$ the earlier time,
248:305,27['  ]| though about this, as about his other affairs, Ralph
248:305,28['  ]| had never been egotistic.  Isabel spoke of his journey,
248:305,29['  ]| of the stages into which$6#1$ he should divide it, of
248:305,30['  ]| the precautions he should take.  
248:305,30[B  ]| "Henrietta is my
248:305,31[B  ]| greatest precaution," 
248:305,31['  ]| he went on$5$.  
248:305,31[B  ]| "The conscience
248:305,32[B  ]| of that$6#2$ woman is sublime."
248:306,01[A  ]| "Certainly she will$1$ be very conscientious."
248:306,02[B  ]| "Will$1$ be?  She has been!  It is only because she
248:306,03[B  ]| thinks it is her duty that$3$ she goes with me.  There is
248:306,04[B  ]| a conception of duty for$4$ you."
248:306,05[A  ]| "Yes, it is a generous one," 
248:306,05['  ]| said Isabel, 
248:306,05[A  ]| "and it
248:306,06[A  ]| make me deeply ashamed.  I ought to$9$ go with you,
248:306,07[A  ]| you know."
248:306,08[B  ]| "Your husband would not like$1$ that$6#2$."
248:306,09[A  ]| "No$7$, he would not like$1$ it.  But I might go, all the
248:306,10[A  ]| same."
248:306,11[B  ]| "I am startled by$4$ the boldness of your imagination.
248:306,12[B  ]| Fancy my being a cause of disagreement between a 
248:306,13[B  ]| lady and her husband!"
248:306,14[A  ]| "That$6#2$ is why I do not go," 
248:306,14['  ]| said Isabel simply ~~
248:306,15['  ]| yet not very lucidly.
248:306,16['  ]| Ralph understood well enough, however.  
248:306,16[B  ]| "I should
248:306,17[B  ]| think so$5#2$, with all those occupations you speak of."
248:306,18[A  ]| "It is not that$6#2$, I am afraid," 
248:306,18['  ]| said Isabel.  After a
248:306,19['  ]| pause she repeated, as if to$9$ make herself, rather than
248:306,20['  ]| him, hear the words:
248:306,20[A  ]| "I am afraid."
248:306,21['  ]| Ralph could hardly tell what her tone meant; 
248:306,21@b   | it
248:306,22@b   | was so$5#1$ strangely deliberate ~~ apparently so$5#1$ void of
248:306,23@b   | emotion.  Did she wish to$9$ do public penance for$4$ a
248:306,24@b   | fault of which$6#1$ she had not been convicted?  or were
248:306,25@b   | her words simply an attempt at enlightened self-analysis?
248:306,26['  ]| However this might be, Ralph could
248:306,27['  ]| not resist so$5#1$ easy an opportunity.  
248:306,27[B  ]| "Afraid of your
248:306,28[B  ]| husband?"
248:306,29[A  ]| "Afraid of myself!" 
248:306,29['  ]| she said, getting up$5$.  She
248:306,30['  ]| stood there a moment and then added:
248:306,30[A  ]| "If I were
248:306,31[A  ]| afraid of my husband that$6#2$ would be simply my duty.
248:306,32[A  ]| That$6#2$ is what women are expected to$9$ be."
248:307,01[B  ]| "Ah yes," 
248:307,01['  ]| laughed Ralph; 
248:307,01[B  ]| "but to$9$ make up$5$ for$4$
248:307,02[B  ]| it there is always some man awfully afraid of some
248:307,03[B  ]| woman!"
248:307,04['  ]| She gave no$2$ heed to$4$ his pleasantry, but suddenly
248:307,05['  ]| took a different turn.  
248:307,05[A  ]| "With Henrietta at the head
248:307,06[A  ]| of your little band," 
248:307,06['  ]| she exclaimed abruptly, 
248:307,06[A  ]| "there
248:307,07[A  ]| will$1$ be nothing left for$4$ Mr%*Goodwood."
248:307,08[B  ]| "Ah, my dear Isabel," 
248:307,08['  ]| Ralph answered, 
248:307,08[B  ]| "he is
248:307,09[B  ]| used to$4$ that$6#2$.  There \is\ nothing left for$4$ Mr%*Goodwood."
248:307,10[B  ]|
248:307,11['  ]| She coloured and then observed, quickly, that$3$ 
248:307,11@a   | she
248:307,12@a   | must leave him.  
248:307,12['  ]| They stood together a moment;
248:307,13['  ]| both her hands were in$4$ both of his.  
248:307,13[A  ]| "You have been
248:307,14[A  ]| my best friend," 
248:307,14['  ]| she said.
248:307,15[A  ]| "It was for$4$ you that$3$ I wanted ~~ that$3$ I wanted to$9$
248:307,16[A  ]| live.  But I am of no$2$ use to$4$ you."
248:307,17['  ]| Then it came over her more poignantly that$3$ 
248:307,17@a   | she
248:307,18@a   | should not see him again.  She could not accept that$6#2$;
248:307,19@a   | she could not part with him that$6#2$ way.  
248:307,19[A  ]| "If you should
248:307,20[A  ]| send for$4$ me I would come," 
248:307,20['  ]| she said at last.
248:307,21[B  ]| "Your husband will$1$ not consent to$4$ that$6#2$."
248:307,22[A  ]| "Oh yes, I can arrange it."
248:307,23[B  ]| "I shall keep that$6#2$ for$4$ my last pleasure!" 
248:307,23['  ]| said
248:307,24['  ]| Ralph.
248:307,25['  ]| In$4$ answer to$4$ which$6#1$ she simply kissed him.  It
248:307,26['  ]| was a Thursday, and that$6#2$ evening Caspar*Goodwood
248:307,27['  ]| came to$4$ Palazzo*Roccanera.  He was among
248:307,28['  ]| the first to$9$ arrive, and he spent some time in$4$ conversation
248:307,29['  ]| with Gilbert*Osmond, who$6#1$ almost always
248:307,30['  ]| was present when his wife received.  They sat down
248:307,31['  ]| together, and Osmond, talkative, communicative,
248:307,32['  ]| expansive, seemed possessed with a kind of intellectual
248:308,01['  ]| gaiety.  He leaned back with his legs crossed,
248:308,02['  ]| lounging and chatting, while Goodwood, more restless,
248:308,03['  ]| but not at all lively, shifted his position, played
248:308,04['  ]| with his hat, made the little sofa creak beneath him.
248:308,05['  ]| Osmond's face wore a sharp, aggressive smile; he
248:308,06['  ]| was as a man whose perceptions have been quickened
248:308,07['  ]| by$4$ good news.  He remarked to$4$ Goodwood
248:308,08['  ]| that$3$ 
248:308,08@c   | he was sorry they were to$9$ lose him; he himself
248:308,09@c   | should particularly miss him.  He saw so$5#1$ few
248:308,10@c   | intelligent men ~~ they were surprisingly scarce in$4$
248:308,11@c   | Rome.  He must be sure to$9$ come back; there was
248:308,12@c   | something very refreshing, to$4$ an inveterate Italian
248:308,13@c   | like$4$ himself, in$4$ talking with a genuine outsider.
248:308,14[C  ]| "I am very fond of Rome, you know," 
248:308,14['  ]| Osmond
248:308,15['  ]| said; 
248:308,15[C  ]| "but there is nothing I like$1$ better than to$9$ meet
248:308,16[C  ]| people who$6#1$ have not that$6#2$ superstition.  The modern
248:308,17[C  ]| world is after all very fine.  Now you are thoroughly
248:308,18[C  ]| modern and yet are not at all common.  So$5#1$ many
248:308,19[C  ]| of the moderns we see are such very poor stuff.  If
248:308,20[C  ]| they are the children of the future we are willing to$9$ die
248:308,21[C  ]| young.  Of course the ancients too are often very
248:308,22[C  ]| tiresome.  My wife and I like$1$ everything that$6#1$ is
248:308,23[C  ]| really new ~~ not the mere pretence of it.  There is
248:308,24[C  ]| nothing new, unfortunately, in$4$ ignorance and stupidity.
248:308,25[C  ]| We see plenty of that$6#2$ in$4$ forms that$6#1$ offer themselves
248:308,26[C  ]| as a revelation of progress, of light.  A revelation
248:308,27[C  ]| of vulgarity!  There is a certain kind of vulgarity
248:308,28[C  ]| which$6#1$ I believe is really new; I do not think there
248:308,29[C  ]| ever was anything like$4$ it before.  Indeed I do not
248:308,30[C  ]| find vulgarity, at all, before the present century.
248:308,31[C  ]| You see a faint menace of it here and there in$4$ the
248:308,32[C  ]| last, but to-day the air has grown so$5#1$ dense that$3$
248:309,01[C  ]| delicate things are literally not recognised.  Now,
248:309,02[C  ]| we have \liked you\ ~~ !"  
248:309,02['  ]| With which$6#1$ he hesitated
248:309,03['  ]| a moment, laying his hand gently on$4$ Goodwood's
248:309,04['  ]| knee and smiling with a mixture of assurance and
248:309,05['  ]| embarrassment.  
248:309,05[C  ]| "I am going to$9$ say something extremely
248:309,06[C  ]| offensive and patronising, but you must let
248:309,07[C  ]| me have the satisfaction of it.  We have liked you because
248:309,08[C  ]| ~~ because you have reconciled us a little to$4$ the
248:309,09[C  ]| future.  If there are to$9$ be a certain number of people
248:309,10[C  ]| like$4$ you ~~ \9a*la*bonne*heure!\  I am talking for$4$ my wife
248:309,11[C  ]| as well as for$4$ myself, you see.  She speaks for$4$ me,
248:309,12[C  ]| my wife; why should not I speak for$4$ her?  We are as
248:309,13[C  ]| united, you know, as the candlestick and the snuffers.
248:309,14[C  ]| Am I assuming too much when I say that$3$ I think
248:309,15[C  ]| I have understood from you that$3$ your occupations
248:309,16[C  ]| have been ~~ a ~~ commercial?  There is a danger
248:309,17[C  ]| in$4$ that$6#2$, you know; but it is the way you have escaped
248:309,18[C  ]| that$6#1$ strikes us.  Excuse me if my little compliment
248:309,19[C  ]| seems in$4$ execrable taste; fortunately my wife
248:309,20[C  ]| does not hear me.  What I mean is that$3$ you might
248:309,21[C  ]| have been ~~ a ~~ what I was mentioning just now.
248:309,22[C  ]| The whole American world was in$4$ a conspiracy to$9$
248:309,23[C  ]| make you so$5#2$.  But you resisted, you have something
248:309,24[C  ]| about you that$6#1$ saved you.  And yet you are so$5#1$ modern,
248:309,25[C  ]| so$5#1$ modern; the most modern man we know!  We 
248:309,26[C  ]| shall always be delighted to$9$ see you again."
248:309,27['  ]| I have said that$3$ Osmond was in$4$ good humour, and
248:309,28['  ]| these remarks will$1$ give ample evidence of the fact.
248:309,29['  ]| They were infinitely more personal than he usually
248:309,30['  ]| cared to$9$ be, and if Caspar*Goodwood had attended
248:309,31['  ]| to$4$ them more closely he might have thought that$3$ the
248:309,32['  ]| defence of delicacy was in$4$ rather odd hands.  We may
248:310,01['  ]| believe, however, that$3$ Osmond knew very well what
248:310,02['  ]| he was about, and that$3$ if he chose to$9$ use the tone of
248:310,03['  ]| patronage with a grossness not in$4$ his habits he had
248:310,04['  ]| an excellent reason for$4$ the escapade.  Goodwood had
248:310,05['  ]| only a vague sense that$3$ he was laying it on$4$ somehow;
248:310,06['  ]| he scarcely knew where the mixture was applied.  Indeed
248:310,07['  ]| he scarcely knew what Osmond was talking
248:310,08['  ]| about; he wanted to$9$ be alone with Isabel, and that$6#2$
248:310,09['  ]| idea spoke louder to$4$ him than her husband's perfectly-pitched
248:310,10['  ]| voice.  He watched her talking with other people
248:310,11['  ]| and wondered 
248:310,11@e   | when she would be at liberty and
248:310,12@e   | whether he might ask her to$9$ go into one of the other
248:310,13@e   | rooms.  
248:310,13['  ]| His humour was not, like$4$ Osmond's, of the
248:310,14['  ]| best; there was an element of dull rage in$4$ this consciousness
248:310,15['  ]| of things.  Up$5$ to$4$ this time he had not disliked
248:310,16['  ]| Osmond personally; he had only thought him
248:310,17['  ]| very well-informed and obliging and more than he had
248:310,18['  ]| supposed like$4$ the person whom Isabel*Archer would
248:310,19['  ]| naturally marry.  His host had won in$4$ the open field
248:310,20['  ]| a great advantage over him, and Goodwood had too
248:310,21['  ]| strong a sense of fair play to$9$ have been moved to$9$ underrate
248:310,22['  ]| him on$4$ that$6#2$ account.  He had not tried positively
248:310,23['  ]| to$9$ think well of him; this was a flight of sentimental
248:310,24['  ]| benevolence of which$6#1$, even in$4$ the days when
248:310,25['  ]| he came nearest to$4$ reconciling himself to$4$ what had
248:310,26['  ]| happened, Goodwood was quite incapable.  He accepted
248:310,27['  ]| him as 
248:310,27@e   | rather a brilliant personage of the
248:310,28@e   | amateurish kind, afflicted with a redundancy of leisure
248:310,29@e   | which$6#1$ it amused him to$9$ work off in$4$ little refinements
248:310,30@e   | of conversation.  
248:310,30['  ]| But he only half trusted him; 
248:310,30@e   | he
248:310,31@e   | could never make out why the deuce Osmond should
248:310,32@e   | lavish refinements of any sort upon$4$ \him\.  
248:310,32['  ]| It made him
248:311,01['  ]| suspect that$3$ he found some private entertainment in$4$
248:311,02['  ]| it, and it ministered to$4$ a general impression that$3$ his
248:311,03['  ]| triumphant rival had in$4$ his composition a streak of
248:311,04['  ]| perversity.  He knew indeed that$3$ Osmond could have
248:311,05['  ]| no$2$ reason to$9$ wish him evil; he had nothing to$9$ fear
248:311,06['  ]| from him.  He had carried off a supreme advantage
248:311,07['  ]| and could afford to$9$ be kind to$4$ a man who$6#1$ had lost
248:311,08['  ]| everything.  It was true that$3$ Goodwood had at times
248:311,09['  ]| grimly wished he were dead and would have liked to$9$
248:311,10['  ]| kill him; but Osmond had no$2$ means of knowing this,
248:311,11['  ]| for$3$ practice had made the younger man perfect in$4$ the
248:311,12['  ]| art of appearing inaccessible to-day to$4$ any violent
248:311,13['  ]| emotion.  He cultivated this art in$4$ order to$9$ deceive
248:311,14['  ]| himself, but it was others that$6#1$ he deceived first.
248:311,15['  ]| He cultivated it, moreover, with very limited success;
248:311,16['  ]| of which$6#1$ there could be no$2$ better proof than the
248:311,17['  ]| deep, dumb irritation that$6#1$ reigned in$4$ his soul when
248:311,18['  ]| he heard Osmond speak of his wife's feelings as if he
248:311,19['  ]| were commissioned to$9$ answer for$4$ them.
248:311,20['  ]| That$6#2$ was all he had had an ear for$5$ in$4$ what his host
248:311,21['  ]| said to$4$ him this evening; he had been conscious that$3$
248:311,22@e   | Osmond made more of a point even than usual of referring
248:311,23@e   | to$4$ the conjugal harmony prevailing at Palazzo*Roccanera.
248:311,24@e   | He had been more careful than ever to$9$ 
248:311,25@e   | speak as if he and his wife had all things in$4$ sweet community
248:311,26@e   | and it were as natural to$4$ each of them to$9$ say 
248:311,27@e   | "we" as to$9$ say "I".  
248:311,27['  ]| In$4$ all this there was an air of
248:311,28['  ]| intention that$6#1$ had puzzled and angered our poor Bostonian,
248:311,29['  ]| who$6#1$ could only reflect for$4$ his comfort that$3$ 
248:311,29@e   | Mrs%*Osmond's
248:311,30@e   | relations with her husband were none of his
248:311,31@e   | business.  He had no$2$ proof whatever that$3$ her husband
248:311,32@e   | misrepresented her, and if he judged her by$4$ the surface
248:312,01@e   | of things was bound to$9$ believe that$3$ she liked her
248:312,02@e   | life.  She had never given him the faintest sign of discontent.
248:312,03@e   | Miss*Stackpole had told him that$3$ she had
248:312,04@e   | lost her illusions, but writing for$4$ the papers had made
248:312,05@e   | Miss*Stackpole sensational.  She was too fond of dreary
248:312,06@e   | news.  
248:312,06['  ]| Moreover, since her arrival in$4$ Rome she had
248:312,07['  ]| been much on$4$ her guard; she had pretty well ceased
248:312,08['  ]| to$9$ flash her lantern at him.  This indeed, it may be
248:312,09['  ]| said for$4$ her, would have been quite against her conscience.
248:312,10['  ]| She had now seen the reality of Isabel's situation,
248:312,11['  ]| and it had inspired her with a just reserve.
248:312,12['  ]| Whatever could be done to$9$ improve it the most useful
248:312,13['  ]| form of assistance would not be to$9$ inflame her former
248:312,14['  ]| lovers with a sense of her wrongs.  Miss*Stackpole continued
248:312,15['  ]| to$9$ take a deep interest in$4$ the state of Mr%*Goodwood's
248:312,16['  ]| feelings, but she showed it at present only 
248:312,17['  ]| by$4$ sending him choice extracts, humorous and other,
248:312,18['  ]| from the American journals, of which$6#1$ she received
248:312,19['  ]| several by$4$ every post and which$6#1$ she always perused
248:312,20['  ]| with a pair of scissors in$4$ her hand.  The articles she
248:312,21['  ]| cut out she placed in$4$ an envelope addressed to$4$ Mr%*Goodwood,
248:312,22['  ]| which$6#1$ she left with her own hand at his
248:312,23['  ]| hotel.  He never asked her a question about Isabel:
248:312,24@e   | had not he come five thousand miles to$9$ see for$4$ himself?
248:312,25['  ]| He was thus not in$4$ the least authorised to$9$ think Mrs%*Osmond
248:312,26['  ]| unhappy; but the very absence of authorisation
248:312,27['  ]| operated as an irritant, ministered to$4$ the harshness
248:312,28['  ]| with which$6#1$, in$4$ spite of his theory that$3$ he had
248:312,29['  ]| ceased to$9$ care, he now recognised that$3$, 
248:312,29@e   | so$5#1$ far as she
248:312,30@e   | was concerned, the future had nothing more for$4$ him.
248:312,31@e   | He had not even the satisfaction of knowing the truth;
248:312,32@e   | apparently he could not even be trusted to$9$ respect her
248:313,01@e   | if she \were\ unhappy.  He was hopeless, helpless, useless.
248:313,02@e   | To$4$ this last character she had called his attention
248:313,03@e   | by$4$ her ingenious plan for$4$ making him leave Rome.
248:313,04@e   | He had no$2$ objection whatever to$4$ doing what he could
248:313,05@e   | for$4$ her cousin, but it made him grind his teeth to$9$ think
248:313,06@e   | that$3$ of all the services she might have asked of him
248:313,07@e   | this was the one she had been eager to$9$ select.  There
248:313,08@e   | had been no$2$ danger of her choosing one that$6#1$ would
248:313,09@e   | have kept him in$4$ Rome.
248:313,10['  ]| To-night what he was chiefly thinking of was that$3$
248:313,11@e   | he was to$9$ leave her to-morrow and that$3$ he had gained
248:313,12@e   | nothing by$4$ coming but the knowledge that$3$ he was as
248:313,13@e   | little wanted as ever.  About herself he had gained no$2$
248:313,14@e   | knowledge; she was imperturbable, inscrutable, impenetrable.
248:313,15['  ]| He felt the old bitterness, which$6#1$ he had 
248:313,16['  ]| tried so$5#1$ hard to$9$ swallow, rise again in$4$ his throat, and
248:313,17['  ]| he knew 
248:313,17@e   | there are disappointments that$6#1$ last as long
248:313,18@e   | as life.  
248:313,18['  ]| Osmond went on$5$ talking; Goodwood was
248:313,19['  ]| vaguely aware that$3$ he was touching again upon$4$ his
248:313,20['  ]| perfect intimacy with his wife.  It seemed to$4$ him for$4$
248:313,21['  ]| a moment that$3$ 
248:313,21@e   | the man had a kind of demonic imagination;
248:313,22@e   | it was impossible that$3$ without malice he
248:313,23@e   | should have selected so$5#1$ unusual a topic.  But what
248:313,24@e   | did it matter, after all, whether he was demonic or
248:313,25@e   | not, and whether she loved him or hated him?  She
248:313,26@e   | might hate him to$4$ the death without one's gaining a
248:313,27@e   | straw one's self.  
248:313,27[C  ]| "You travel, by$7$ the by$7$, with Ralph*Touchett,"
248:313,28['  ]| Osmond said.  
248:313,28[C  ]| "I suppose that$6#2$ means
248:313,29[C  ]| you will$1$ move slowly?"
248:313,30[E  ]| "I do not know.  I shall do just as he likes."
248:313,31[C  ]| "You are very accommodating.  We are immensely
248:313,32[C  ]| obliged to$4$ you; you must really let me say it.  My
248:314,01[C  ]| wife has probably expressed to$4$ you what we feel.
248:314,02[C  ]| Touchett has been on$4$ our minds all winter; it has
248:314,03[C  ]| looked more than once as if he would never leave
248:314,04[C  ]| Rome.  He ought never to$9$ have come; it is worse than
248:314,05[C  ]| an impudence for$4$ people in$4$ that$6#2$ state to$9$ travel; it is
248:314,06[C  ]| a kind of indelicacy.  I would not for$4$ the world be
248:314,07[C  ]| under such an obligation to$4$ Touchett as he has been
248:314,08[C  ]| to$4$ ~~ to$4$ my wife and me.  Other people inevitably
248:314,09[C  ]| have to$9$ look after him, and every*one is not so$5#1$ generous
248:314,10[C  ]| as you."
248:314,11[E  ]| "I have nothing else to$9$ do," 
248:314,11['  ]| Caspar said dryly.
248:314,12['  ]| Osmond looked at him a moment askance.  
248:314,12[C  ]| "You
248:314,13[C  ]| ought to$9$ marry, and then you would have plenty to$9$ do!
248:314,14[C  ]| It is true that$3$ in$4$ that$6#2$ case you would not be quite so$5#1$ 
248:314,15[C  ]| available for$4$ deeds of mercy."
248:314,16[E  ]| "Do you find that$3$ as a married man you are so$5#1$ much
248:314,17[E  ]| occupied?"  
248:314,17['  ]| the young man mechanically asked.
248:314,18[C  ]| "Ah, you see, being married is in$4$ itself an occupation.
248:314,19[C  ]| It is not always active; it is often passive; but
248:314,20[C  ]| that$6#2$ takes even more attention.  Then my wife and
248:314,21[C  ]| I do so$5#1$ many things together.  We read, we study, we
248:314,22[C  ]| make music, we walk, we drive ~~ we talk even, as
248:314,23[C  ]| when we first knew each other.  I delight, to$4$ this hour,
248:314,24[C  ]| in$4$ my wife's conversation.  If you are ever bored take
248:314,25[C  ]| my advice and get married.  Your wife indeed may
248:314,26[C  ]| bore you, in$4$ that$6#2$ case; but you will$1$ never bore yourself.
248:314,27[C  ]| You will$1$ always have something to$9$ say to$4$ yourself ~~
248:314,28[C  ]| always have a subject of reflection."
248:314,29[E  ]| "I am not bored," 
248:314,29['  ]| said Goodwood.  
248:314,29[E  ]| "I have plenty
248:314,30[E  ]| to$9$ think about and to$9$ say to$4$ myself."
248:314,31[C  ]| "More than to$9$ say to$4$ others!"  
248:314,31['  ]| Osmond exclaimed
248:314,32['  ]| with a light laugh.  
248:314,32[C  ]| "Where shall you go next?  I mean
248:315,01[C  ]| after you have consigned Touchett to$4$ his natural care-takers
248:315,02[C  ]| ~~ I believe his mother is at last coming back
248:315,03[C  ]| to$9$ look after him.  That$6#2$ little lady is superb; she
248:315,04[C  ]| neglects her duties with a finish ~~ !  Perhaps you will$1$
248:315,05[C  ]| spend the summer in$4$ England?"
248:315,06[E  ]| "I do not know.  I have no$2$ plans."
248:315,07[C  ]| "Happy man!  That$6#2$ is a little bleak, but it is very
248:315,08[C  ]| free."
248:315,09[E  ]| "Oh yes, I am very free."
248:315,10[C  ]| "Free to$9$ come back to$4$ Rome I hope," 
248:315,10['  ]| said Osmond
248:315,11['  ]| as he saw a group of new visitors enter the room.
248:315,12[C  ]| "Remember that$3$ when you do come we count on$4$
248:315,13[C  ]| you!"
248:315,14['  ]| Goodwood had meant to$9$ go away early, but the
248:315,15['  ]| evening elapsed without his having a chance to$9$ speak
248:315,16['  ]| to$4$ Isabel otherwise than as one of several associated
248:315,17['  ]| interlocutors.  There was something perverse in$4$ the
248:315,18['  ]| inveteracy with which$6#1$ she avoided him; his unquenchable
248:315,19['  ]| rancour discovered an intention where there was
248:315,20['  ]| certainly no$2$ appearance of one.  There was absolutely
248:315,21['  ]| no$2$ appearance of one.  She met his eyes with her clear
248:315,22['  ]| hospitable smile, which$6#1$ seemed almost to$9$ ask that$3$ he
248:315,23['  ]| would come and help her to$9$ entertain some of her
248:315,24['  ]| visitors.  To$4$ such suggestions, however, he opposed
248:315,25['  ]| but a stiff impatience.  He wandered about and waited;
248:315,26['  ]| he talked to$4$ the few people he knew, who$6#1$ found him
248:315,27['  ]| for$4$ the first time rather self-contradictory.  This was
248:315,28['  ]| indeed rare with Caspar*Goodwood, though he often
248:315,29['  ]| contradicted others.  There was often music at Palazzo*Roccanera,
248:315,30['  ]| and it was usually very good.  Under
248:315,31['  ]| cover of the music he managed to$9$ contain himself; but
248:315,32['  ]| toward the end, when he saw the people beginning to$9$
248:316,01['  ]| go, he drew near to$4$ Isabel and asked her in$4$ a low tone
248:316,02['  ]| if he might not speak to$4$ her in$4$ one of the other rooms,
248:316,03['  ]| which$6#1$ he had just assured himself was empty.  She
248:316,04['  ]| smiled as if she wished to$9$ oblige him but found herself
248:316,05['  ]| absolutely prevented.  
248:316,05[A  ]| "I am afraid it is impossible.
248:316,06[A  ]| People are saying good-night, and I must be where
248:316,07[A  ]| they can see me."
248:316,08[E  ]| "I shall wait till they are all gone then."
248:316,09['  ]| She hesitated a moment.  
248:316,09[A  ]| "Ah, that$6#2$ will$1$ be delightful!"
248:316,10['  ]| she exclaimed.
248:316,11['  ]| And he waited, though it took a long time yet.
248:316,12['  ]| There were several people, at the end, who$6#1$ seemed
248:316,13['  ]| tethered to$4$ the carpet.  The Countess*Gemini, who$6#1$
248:316,14['  ]| was never herself till midnight, as she said, displayed
248:316,15['  ]| no$2$ consciousness that$3$ the entertainment was
248:316,16['  ]| over; she had still a little circle of gentlemen in$4$
248:316,17['  ]| front of the fire, who$6#1$ every now and then broke into
248:316,18['  ]| a united laugh.  Osmond had disappeared ~~ he
248:316,19['  ]| never bade good-bye to$4$ people; and as the Countess
248:316,20['  ]| was extending her range, according to$4$ her custom
248:316,21['  ]| at this period of the evening, Isabel had sent Pansy
248:316,22['  ]| to$4$ bed.  Isabel sat a little apart; she too appeared
248:316,23['  ]| to$9$ wish her sister-in-law would sound a lower note
248:316,24['  ]| and let the last loiterers depart in$4$ peace.
248:316,25[E  ]| "May I not say a word to$4$ you now?"  
248:316,25['  ]| Goodwood
248:316,26['  ]| presently asked her.
248:316,27['  ]| She got up$5$ immediately, smiling.  
248:316,27[A  ]| "Certainly, we will$1$
248:316,28[A  ]| go somewhere else if you like$1$."  
248:316,28['  ]| They went together,
248:316,29['  ]| leaving the Countess with her little circle, and for$4$ a 
248:316,30['  ]| moment after they had crossed the threshold neither
248:316,31['  ]| of them spoke.  Isabel would not sit down; she stood
248:316,32['  ]| in$4$ the middle of the room slowly fanning herself;
248:317,01@e   | she had for$4$ him the same familiar grace.  She seemed 
248:317,02@e   | to$9$ wait for$4$ him to$9$ speak.  
248:317,02['  ]| Now that$3$ he was alone
248:317,03['  ]| with her all the passion he had never stifled surged
248:317,04['  ]| into his senses; it hummed in$4$ his eyes and made
248:317,05['  ]| things swim round him.  The bright, empty room
248:317,06['  ]| grew dim and blurred, and through the heaving veil
248:317,07['  ]| he felt her hover before him with gleaming eyes and
248:317,08['  ]| parted lips.  If he had seen more distinctly he would
248:317,09['  ]| have perceived her smile was fixed and a trifle forced
248:317,10['  ]| ~~ that$3$ she was frightened at what she saw in$4$ his
248:317,11['  ]| own face.  
248:317,11[A  ]| "I suppose you wish to$9$ bid me good-bye?"
248:317,12['  ]| she said.
248:317,13[E  ]| "Yes ~~ but I do not like$1$ it.  I do not want to$9$ leave
248:317,14[E  ]| Rome," 
248:317,14['  ]| he answered with almost plaintive honesty.
248:317,15[A  ]| "I can well imagine.  It is wonderfully good of
248:317,16[A  ]| you.  I can not tell you how kind I think you."
248:317,17['  ]| For$4$ a moment more he said nothing.  
248:317,17[E  ]| "With a few
248:317,18[E  ]| words like$4$ that$6#2$ you make me go."
248:317,19[A  ]| "You must come back some day," 
248:317,19['  ]| she brightly
248:317,20['  ]| returned.
248:317,21[E  ]| "Some day?  You mean as long a time hence as
248:317,22[E  ]| possible."
248:317,23[A  ]| "Oh no$7$; I do not mean all that$6#2$."
248:317,24[E  ]| "What \do\ you mean?  I do not understand!  But
248:317,25[E  ]| I said I would go, and I will$1$ go," 
248:317,25['  ]| Goodwood added.
248:317,26[A  ]| "Come back whenever you like$1$," 
248:317,26['  ]| said Isabel with
248:317,27['  ]| attempted lightness.
248:317,28[E  ]| "I do not care a straw for$4$ your cousin!"  
248:317,28['  ]| Caspar
248:317,29['  ]| broke out.
248:317,30[A  ]| "Is that$6#2$ what you wished to$9$ tell me?"
248:317,31[E  ]| "No$7$, no$7$; I did not want to$9$ tell you anything;
248:317,32[E  ]| I wanted to$9$ ask you ~~ "  
248:317,32['  ]| he paused a moment, and
248:318,01['  ]| then ~~ 
248:318,01[E  ]| "What have you really made of your life?"
248:318,02['  ]| he said, in$4$ a low, quick tone.  He paused again, as
248:318,03['  ]| if for$4$ an answer; but she said nothing, and he went
248:318,04['  ]| on$5$:
248:318,04[E  ]| "I can not understand, I can not penetrate you!
248:318,05[E  ]| What am I to$9$ believe ~~ what do you want me to$9$
248:318,06[E  ]| think?"  
248:318,06['  ]| Still she said nothing; she only stood looking
248:318,07['  ]| at him, now quite without pretending to$4$ ease.
248:318,08[E  ]| "I am told you are unhappy, and if you are I should
248:318,09[E  ]| like$1$ to$9$ know it.  That$6#2$ would be something for$4$ me.
248:318,10[E  ]| But you yourself say you are happy, and you are
248:318,11[E  ]| somehow so$5#1$ still, so$5#1$ smooth, so$5#1$ hard.  You are completely
248:318,12[E  ]| changed.  You conceal everything; I have not
248:318,13[E  ]| really come near you."
248:318,14[A  ]| "You come very near," 
248:318,14['  ]| Isabel said gently, but in$4$ 
248:318,15['  ]| a tone of warning.
248:318,16[E  ]| "And yet I do not touch you!  I want to$9$ know the
248:318,17[E  ]| truth.  Have you done well?"
248:318,18[A  ]| "You ask a great deal."
248:318,19[E  ]| "Yes ~~ I have always asked a great deal.  Of course
248:318,20[E  ]| you will$1$ not tell me.  I shall never know if you can help
248:318,21[E  ]| it.  And then it is none of my business."  
248:318,21['  ]| He had
248:318,22['  ]| spoken with a visible effort to$9$ control himself, to$9$ give
248:318,23['  ]| a considerate form to$4$ an inconsiderate state of mind.
248:318,24['  ]| But the sense that$3$ 
248:318,24@e   | it was his last chance, that$3$ he
248:318,25@e   | loved her and had lost her, that$3$ she would think
248:318,26@e   | him a fool whatever he should say, 
248:318,26['  ]| suddenly gave
248:318,27['  ]| him a lash and added a deep vibration to$4$ his low
248:318,28['  ]| voice.  
248:318,28[E  ]| "You are perfectly inscrutable, and that$6#2$ is
248:318,29[E  ]| what makes me think you have something to$9$ hide.
248:318,30[E  ]| I tell you I do not care a straw for$4$ your cousin, but
248:318,31[E  ]| I do not meant that$3$ I do not like$1$ him.  I mean that$3$ it
248:318,32[E  ]| is not because I like$1$ him that$3$ I go away with him.
248:319,01[E  ]| I would go if he were an idiot and you should have asked
248:319,02[E  ]| me.  If you should ask me I would go to$4$ Siberia to-morrow.
248:319,03[E  ]| Why do you want me to$9$ leave the place?  You
248:319,04[E  ]| must have some reason for$4$ that$6#2$; if you were as contented
248:319,05[E  ]| as you pretend you are you would not care.
248:319,06[E  ]| I would rather know the truth about you, even if it is
248:319,07[E  ]| damnable, than have come here for$4$ nothing.  That$6#2$
248:319,08[E  ]| is not what I came for$4$.  I thought I should not care.
248:319,09[E  ]| I came because I wanted to$9$ assure myself that$3$ I
248:319,10[E  ]| need not think of you any more.  I have not thought
248:319,11[E  ]| of anything else, and you are quite right to$9$ wish me
248:319,12[E  ]| to$9$ go away.  But if I must go, there is no$2$ harm in$4$ my
248:319,13[E  ]| letting myself out for$4$ a single moment, is there?  If
248:319,14[E  ]| you are really hurt ~~ if \he\ hurts you ~~ nothing \I\
248:319,15[E  ]| say will$1$ hurt you.  When I tell you I love you it is
248:319,16[E  ]| simply what I came for$4$.  I thought it was for$4$ something
248:319,17[E  ]| else; but it was for$4$ that$6#2$.  I should not say it
248:319,18[E  ]| if I did not believe I should never see you again.
248:319,19[E  ]| It is the last time ~~ let me pluck a single flower!
248:319,20[E  ]| I have no$2$ right to$9$ say that$6#2$, I know; and you have no$2$
248:319,21[E  ]| right to$9$ listen.  But you do not listen; you never 
248:319,22[E  ]| listen, you are always thinking of something else.
248:319,23[E  ]| After this I must go, of course; so$3$ I shall at least
248:319,24[E  ]| have a reason.  Your asking me is no$2$ reason, not a 
248:319,25[E  ]| real one.  I can not judge by$4$ your husband," 
248:319,25['  ]| he went
248:319,26['  ]| on$5$ irrelevantly, almost incoherently;  
248:319,26[E  ]| "I do not understand
248:319,27[E  ]| him; he tells me you adore each other.
248:319,28[E  ]| Why does he tell me that$6#2$?  What business is it of
248:319,29[E  ]| mine?  When I say that$6#2$ to$4$ you, you look strange.
248:319,30[E  ]| But you always look strange.  Yes, you have something
248:319,31[E  ]| to$9$ hide.  It is none of my business ~~ very true.
248:319,32[E  ]| But I love you," 
248:319,32['  ]| said Caspar*Goodwood.
248:320,01['  ]| As he said, she looked strange.  She turned her
248:320,02['  ]| eyes to$4$ the door by$4$ which$6#1$ they had entered and raised
248:320,03['  ]| her fan as if in$4$ warning.  
248:320,03[A  ]| "You have behaved so$5#1$ well;
248:320,04[A  ]| do not spoil it," 
248:320,04['  ]| she uttered softly.
248:320,05[E  ]| "No*one hears me.  It is wonderful what you
248:320,06[E  ]| tried to$9$ put me off with.  I love you as I have never
248:320,07[E  ]| loved you."
248:320,08[A  ]| "I know it.  I knew it as soon as you consented
248:320,09[A  ]| to$9$ go."
248:320,10[E  ]| "You can not help it ~~ of course not.  You would
248:320,11[E  ]| if you could, but can not, unfortunately.  Unfortunately
248:320,12[E  ]| for$4$ me, I mean.  I ask nothing ~~ nothing,
248:320,13[E  ]| that$3$ is, I should not.  But I do ask one sole satisfaction: ~~
248:320,14[E  ]| that$3$ you tell me ~~ that$3$ you tell me ~~!"
248:320,15[A  ]| "That$3$ I tell you what?"
248:320,16[E  ]| "Whether I may pity you."
248:320,17[A  ]| "Should you like$1$ that$6#2$?"  
248:320,17['  ]| Isabel asked, trying to$9$
248:320,18['  ]| smile again.
248:320,19[E  ]| "To$9$ pity you?  Most assuredly!  That$6#2$ at least
248:320,20[E  ]| would be doing something.  I would give my life to$4$ it."
248:320,21['  ]| She raised her fan to$4$ her face, which$6#1$ it covered
248:320,22['  ]| all except her eyes.  They rested a moment on$4$ his.
248:320,23[A  ]| "Do not give your life to$4$ it; but give a thought to$4$ it
248:320,24[A  ]| every now and then."  
248:320,24['  ]| And with that$6#2$ she went back
248:320,25['  ]| to$4$ the Countess*Gemini.
249:321,01['  ]| Madame*Merle had not made her appearance at
249:321,02['  ]| Palazzo*Roccanera on$4$ the evening of that$6#2$ Thursday
249:321,03['  ]| of which$6#1$ I have narrated some of the incidents, and 
249:321,04['  ]| Isabel, though she observed her absence, was not
249:321,05['  ]| surprised by$4$ it.  Things had passed between them 
249:321,06['  ]| which$6#1$ added no$2$ stimulus to$4$ sociability, and to$9$ appreciate
249:321,07['  ]| which$6#1$ we must glance a little backward.
249:321,08['  ]| It has been mentioned that$3$ Madame*Merle returned
249:321,09['  ]| from Naples shortly after Lord*Warburton had left
249:321,10['  ]| Rome, and that$3$ on$4$ her first meeting with Isabel
249:321,11['  ]| (whom, to$9$ do her justice, she came immediately to$9$
249:321,12['  ]| see) her first utterance had been an enquiry as to$4$
249:321,13['  ]| the whereabouts of this nobleman, for$4$ whom she
249:321,14['  ]| appeared to$9$ hold her dear friend accountable.
249:321,15[A  ]| "Please do not talk of him," 
249:321,15['  ]| said Isabel for$4$ answer;
249:321,16[A  ]| "we have heard so$5#1$ much of him of late."
249:321,17['  ]| Madame*Merle bent her head on$4$ one side a little,
249:321,18['  ]| protestingly, and smiled at the left corner of her
249:321,19['  ]| mouth.  
249:321,19[H  ]| "You have heard, yes.  But you must remember
249:321,20[H  ]| that$3$ I have not, in$4$ Naples.  I hoped to$9$ find him here
249:321,21[H  ]| and to$9$ be able to$9$ congratulate Pansy."
249:321,22[A  ]| "You may congratulate Pansy still; but not on$4$
249:321,23[A  ]| marrying Lord*Warburton."
249:321,24[H  ]| "How you say that$6#2$!  Do not you know I had set
249:321,25[H  ]| my heart on$4$ it?"  
249:321,25['  ]| Madame*Merle asked with a great
249:321,26['  ]| deal of spirit, but still with the intonation of good-humour.
249:321,27['  ]|
249:322,01['  ]| Isabel was discomposed, but she was determined to$9$
249:322,02['  ]| be good-humoured too.  
249:322,02[A  ]| "You should not have gone
249:322,03[A  ]| to$4$ Naples then.  You should have stayed here to$9$
249:322,04[A  ]| watch the affair."
249:322,05[H  ]| "I had too much confidence in$4$ you.  But do you
249:322,06[H  ]| think it is too late?"
249:322,07[A  ]| "You had better ask Pansy," 
249:322,07['  ]| said Isabel.
249:322,08[H  ]| "I shall ask her what you have said to$4$ her."
249:322,09['  ]| These words seemed to$9$ justify the impulse of self-defence
249:322,10['  ]| aroused on$4$ Isabel's part by$4$ her perceiving
249:322,11['  ]| that$3$ her visitor's attitude was a critical one.  Madame*Merle,
249:322,12['  ]| as we know, had been very discreet hitherto;
249:322,13['  ]| she had never criticised; she had been markedly afraid
249:322,14['  ]| of intermeddling.  But apparently she had only reserved
249:322,15['  ]| herself for$4$ this occasion, since she now had a
249:322,16['  ]| dangerous quickness in$4$ her eye and an air of irritation
249:322,17['  ]| which$6#1$ even her admirable ease was not able to$9$ transmute.
249:322,18['  ]| She had suffered a disappointment which$6#1$ excited
249:322,19['  ]| Isabel's surprise ~~ our heroine having no$2$ knowledge
249:322,20['  ]| of her zealous interest in$4$ Pansy's marriage; and
249:322,21['  ]| she betrayed it in$4$ a manner which$6#1$ quickened Mrs%*Osmond's
249:322,22['  ]| alarm.  More clearly than ever before
249:322,23['  ]| Isabel heard a cold, mocking voice proceed from she
249:322,24['  ]| knew not where, in$4$ the dim void that$6#1$ surrounded her,
249:322,25['  ]| and declare that$3$ this bright, strong, definite, worldly
249:322,26['  ]| woman, this incarnation of the practical, the personal,
249:322,27['  ]| the immediate, was a powerful agent in$4$ her destiny.
249:322,28['  ]| She was nearer to$4$ her than Isabel had yet discovered,
249:322,29['  ]| and her nearness was not the charming accident she
249:322,30['  ]| had so$5#1$ long supposed.  The sense of accident indeed
249:322,31['  ]| had died within her that$6#2$ day when she happened to$9$ be
249:322,32['  ]| struck with the manner in$4$ which$6#1$ the wonderful lady
249:323,01['  ]| and her own husband sat together in$4$ private.  No$2$ definite
249:323,02['  ]| suspicion had as yet taken its place; but it was 
249:323,03['  ]| enough to$9$ make her view this friend with a different
249:323,04['  ]| eye, to$9$ have been led to$9$ reflect that$3$ 
249:323,04@a   | there was more intention
249:323,05@a   | in$4$ her past behaviour than she had allowed for$4$
249:323,06@a   | at the time.  
249:323,06@a   | Ah yes, there had been intention, there
249:323,07@a   | had been intention, 
249:323,07['  ]| Isabel said to$4$ herself; and she
249:323,08['  ]| seemed to$9$ wake from a long pernicious dream.  
249:323,08@a   | What
249:323,09@a   | was it that$6#1$ brought home to$4$ her that$3$ Madame*Merle's
249:323,10@a   | intention had not been good?  Nothing but the mistrust
249:323,11@a   | which$6#1$ had lately taken body and which$6#1$ married
249:323,12@a   | itself now to$4$ the fruitful wonder produced by$4$ her visitor's
249:323,13@a   | challenge on$4$ behalf of poor Pansy.  There was
249:323,14@a   | something in$4$ this challenge which$6#1$ had at the very outset
249:323,15@a   | excited an answering defiance; a nameless vitality
249:323,16@a   | which$6#1$ she could see to$9$ have been absent from her
249:323,17@a   | friend's professions of delicacy and caution.  Madame*Merle
249:323,18@a   | had been unwilling to$9$ interfere, certainly, but
249:323,19@a   | only so$5#1$ long as there was nothing to$9$ interfere with.  
249:323,19['  ]| It
249:323,20['  ]| will$1$ perhaps seem to$4$ the reader that$3$ Isabel went fast
249:323,21['  ]| in$4$ casting doubt, on$4$ mere suspicion, on$4$ a sincerity
249:323,22['  ]| proved by$4$ several years of good offices.  She moved
249:323,23['  ]| quickly indeed, and with reason, for$3$ a strange truth
249:323,24['  ]| was filtering into her soul.  Madame*Merle's interest
249:323,25['  ]| was identical with Osmond's: that$6#2$ was enough.  
249:323,25[A  ]| "I
249:323,26[A  ]| think Pansy will$1$ tell you nothing that$6#1$ will$1$ make you
249:323,27[A  ]| more angry," 
249:323,27['  ]| she said in$4$ answer to$4$ her companion's
249:323,28['  ]| last remark.
249:323,29[H  ]| "I am not in$4$ the least angry.  I have only a great
249:323,30[H  ]| desire to$9$ retrieve the situation.  Do you consider that$3$
249:323,31[H  ]| Warburton has left us for*ever?"
249:323,32[A  ]| "I can not tell you; I do not understand you.  It is all
249:324,01[A  ]| over; please let it rest.  Osmond has talked to$4$ me
249:324,02[A  ]| a great deal about it, and I have nothing more to$9$ say
249:324,03[A  ]| or to$9$ hear.  I have no$2$ doubt," 
249:324,03['  ]| Isabel added, 
249:324,03[A  ]| "that$3$ he will$1$
249:324,04[A  ]| be very happy to$9$ discuss the subject with you."
249:324,05[H  ]| "I know what he thinks; he came to$9$ see me last
249:324,06[H  ]| evening."
249:324,07[A  ]| "As soon as you had arrived?  Then you know all
249:324,08[A  ]| about it and you need not apply to$4$ me for$4$ information."
249:324,09[A  ]|
249:324,10[H  ]| "It is not information I want.  At bottom it is sympathy.
249:324,11[H  ]| I had set my heart on$4$ that$6#2$ marriage; the idea
249:324,12[H  ]| did what so$5#1$ few things do ~~ it satisfied the imagination."
249:324,13[H  ]|
249:324,14[A  ]| "Your imagination, yes.  But not that$6#2$ of the persons
249:324,15[A  ]| concerned."
249:324,16[H  ]| "You mean by$4$ that$6#2$ of course that$3$ I am not concerned.
249:324,17[H  ]| Of course not directly.  But when one is such an old
249:324,18[H  ]| friend one can not help having something at stake.  You
249:324,19[H  ]| forget how long I have known Pansy.  You mean, of
249:324,20[H  ]| course," 
249:324,20['  ]| Madame*Merle added, 
249:324,20[H  ]| "that$3$ \you\ are one
249:324,21[H  ]| of the persons concerned."
249:324,22[A  ]| "No$7$; that$6#2$ is the last thing I mean.  I am very weary
249:324,23[A  ]| of it all."
249:324,24['  ]| Madame*Merle hesitated a little.  
249:324,24[H  ]| "Ah yes, your
249:324,25[H  ]| work is done."
249:324,26[A  ]| "Take care what you say," 
249:324,26['  ]| said Isabel very gravely.
249:324,27[H  ]| "Oh, I take care; never perhaps more than when
249:324,28[H  ]| it appears least.  Your husband judges you severely."
249:324,29['  ]| Isabel made for$4$ a moment no$2$ answer to$4$ this; she
249:324,30['  ]| felt choked with bitterness.  
249:324,30@a   | It was not the insolence
249:324,31@a   | of Madame*Merle's informing her that$3$ Osmond had
249:324,32@a   | been taking her into his confidence as against his wife
249:325,01@a   | that$6#1$ struck her most; 
249:325,01['  ]| for$3$ she was not quick to$9$ believe
249:325,02['  ]| that$3$ this was meant for$4$ insolence.  
249:325,02@a   | Madame*Merle
249:325,03@a   | was very rarely insolent, and only when it was exactly
249:325,04@a   | right.  It was not right now, or at least it was not
249:325,05@a   | right yet.  
249:325,05['  ]| What touched Isabel like$4$ a drop of corosive
249:325,06['  ]| acid upon$4$ an open wound was the knowledge that$3$
249:325,07['  ]| Osmond dishonoured her in$4$ his words as well as in$4$
249:325,08['  ]| his thoughts.  
249:325,08[A  ]| "Should you like$1$ to$9$ know how I judge
249:325,09[A  ]| \him\?"  
249:325,09['  ]| she asked at last.
249:325,10[H  ]| "No$7$, because you would never tell me.  And it would
249:325,11[H  ]| be painful for$4$ me to$9$ know."
249:325,12['  ]| There was a pause, and for$4$ the first time since she
249:325,13['  ]| had known her Isabel thought Madame*Merle disagreeable.
249:325,14['  ]| She wished she would leave her.  
249:325,14[A  ]| "Remember
249:325,15[A  ]| how attractive Pansy is, and do not despair," 
249:325,15['  ]| she
249:325,16['  ]| said abruptly, with a desire that$3$ this should close their
249:325,17['  ]| interview.
249:325,18['  ]| But Madame*Merle's expansive presence underwent 
249:325,19['  ]| no$2$ contraction.  She only gathered her mantle
249:325,20['  ]| about her and, with the movement, scattered upon$4$
249:325,21['  ]| the air a faint, agreeable fragrance.  
249:325,21[H  ]| "I do not despair;
249:325,22[H  ]| I feel encouraged.  And I did not come to$9$ scold you;
249:325,23[H  ]| I came if possible to$9$ learn the truth.  I know you will$1$
249:325,24[H  ]| tell it if I ask you.  It is an immense blessing with you
249:325,25[H  ]| that$3$ one can count upon$4$ that$6#2$.  No$7$, you will$1$ not believe
249:325,26[H  ]| what a comfort I take in$4$ it."
249:325,27[A  ]| "What truth do you speak of?"  
249:325,27['  ]| Isabel asked,
249:325,28['  ]| wondering.
249:325,29[H  ]| "Just this: whether Lord*Warburton changed his
249:325,30[H  ]| mind quite of his own movement or because you recommended
249:325,31[H  ]| it.  To$9$ please himself I mean, or to$9$ please
249:325,32[H  ]| you.  Think of the confidence I must still have in$4$ you,
249:326,01[H  ]| in$4$ spite of having lost a little of it," 
249:326,01['  ]| Madame*Merle
249:326,02['  ]| continued with a smile, 
249:326,02[H  ]| "to$9$ ask such a question as
249:326,03[H  ]| that$6#2$!"  
249:326,03['  ]| She sat looking at her friend, to$9$ judge the effect
249:326,04['  ]| of her words, and then went on$5$:
249:326,04[H  ]| "Now do not be
249:326,05[H  ]| heroic, do not be unreasonable, do not take offence.  It
249:326,06[H  ]| seems to$4$ me I do you an honour in$4$ speaking so$5#2$.  I do not
249:326,07[H  ]| know another woman to$4$ whom I would do it.  I have not
249:326,08[H  ]| the least idea that$3$ any other woman would tell me
249:326,09[H  ]| the truth.  And do not you see how well it is that$3$ your
249:326,10[H  ]| husband should know it?  It is true that$3$ he does not
249:326,11[H  ]| appear to$9$ have had any tact whatever in$4$ trying to$9$
249:326,12[H  ]| extract it; he has indulged in$4$ gratuitous suppositions.
249:326,13[H  ]| But that$6#2$ does not alter the fact that$3$ it would make
249:326,14[H  ]| a difference in$4$ his view of his daughter's prospects to$9$
249:326,15[H  ]| know distinctly what really occurred.  If Lord*Warburton
249:326,16[H  ]| simply got tired of the poor child, that$6#2$ is one
249:326,17[H  ]| thing, and it is a pity.  If he gave her up$5$ to$9$ please you
249:326,18[H  ]| it is another.  That$6#2$ is a pity too, but in$4$ a different way.
249:326,19[H  ]| Then, in$4$ the latter case, you had perhaps resign yourself
249:326,20[H  ]| to$4$ not being pleased ~~ to$4$ simply seeing your step-daughter
249:326,21[H  ]| married.  Let him off ~~ let us have him!"
249:326,22['  ]| Madame*Merle had proceeded very deliberately,
249:326,23['  ]| watching her companion and apparently thinking
249:326,24['  ]| she could proceed safely.  As she went on$5$ Isabel grew
249:326,25['  ]| pale; she clasped her hands more tightly in$4$ her lap.
249:326,26@a   | It was not that$3$ her visitor had at last thought it the
249:326,27@a   | right time to$9$ be insolent; for$3$ this was not what was
249:326,28@a   | most apparent.  It was a worse horror than that$6#2$.
249:326,29[A  ]| "Who$6#2$ are you ~~ what are you?"  
249:326,29['  ]| Isabel murmured.
249:326,30[A  ]| "What have you to$9$ do with my husband?"  
249:326,30['  ]| It was
249:326,31['  ]| strange that$3$ for$4$ the moment she drew as near to$4$ him
249:326,32['  ]| as if she had loved him.
249:327,01[H  ]| "Ah then, you take it heroically!  I am very sorry.
249:327,02[H  ]| Do not think, however, that$3$ I shall do so$5#2$."
249:327,03[A  ]| "What have you to$9$ do with me?"  
249:327,03['  ]| Isabel went on$5$.
249:327,04['  ]| Madame*Merle slowly got up$5$, stroking her muff,
249:327,05['  ]| but not removing her eyes from Isabel's face.  
249:327,05[H  ]| "Everything!"
249:327,06['  ]| she answered.
249:327,07['  ]| Isabel sat there looking up$5$ at her, without rising;
249:327,08['  ]| her face was almost a prayer to$9$ be enlightened.  
249:327,08@a   | But
249:327,09@a   | the light of this woman's eyes seemed only a darkness.
249:327,10[A  ]| "Oh misery!"  
249:327,10['  ]| she murmured at last; and she fell
249:327,11['  ]| back, covering her face with her hands.  It had come
249:327,12['  ]| over her like$4$ a high-surging wave that$3$ 
249:327,12@a   | Mrs%*Touchett
249:327,13@a   | was right.  Madame*Merle had married her.  
249:327,13['  ]| Before
249:327,14['  ]| she uncovered her face again that$6#2$ lady had left the
249:327,15['  ]| room.
249:327,16['  ]| Isabel took a drive alone that$6#2$ afternnon; she wished
249:327,17['  ]| to$9$ be far away, under the sky, where she could descend
249:327,18['  ]| from her carriage and tread upon$4$ the daisies.
249:327,19['  ]| She had long before this taken old Rome into her confidence,
249:327,20['  ]| for$3$ in$4$ a world of ruins the ruin of her happiness
249:327,21['  ]| seemed a less unnatural catastrophe.  She rested
249:327,22['  ]| her weariness upon$4$ things that$6#1$ had crumbled for$4$ centuries
249:327,23['  ]| and yet still were upright; she dropped her secret
249:327,24['  ]| sadness into the silence of lonely places, where its
249:327,25['  ]| very modern quality detached itself and grew objective,
249:327,26['  ]| so$3$ that$3$ as she sat in$4$ a sun-warmed angle on$4$ a
249:327,27['  ]| winter's day, or stood in$4$ a mouldy church to$4$ which$6#1$ no*one
249:327,28['  ]| came, she could almost smile at it and think of its
249:327,29['  ]| smallness.  Small it was, in$4$ the large Roman record,
249:327,30['  ]| and her haunting sense of the continuity of the human
249:327,31['  ]| lot easily carried her from the less to$4$ the greater.  She
249:327,32['  ]| had become deeply, tenderly acquainted with Rome;
249:328,01['  ]| it interfused and moderated her passion.  But she had
249:328,02['  ]| grown to$9$ think of it chiefly as the place where people
249:328,03['  ]| had suffered.  This was what came to$4$ her in$4$ the starved
249:328,04['  ]| churches, where the marble columns, transferred from
249:328,05['  ]| pagan ruins, seemed to$9$ offer her a companionship in$4$
249:328,06['  ]| endurance and the musty incense to$9$ be a compound of
249:328,07['  ]| long-unanswered prayers.  There was no$2$ gentler nor
249:328,08['  ]| less consistent heretic than Isabel; the firmest of worshippers,
249:328,09['  ]| gazing at dark altar-pictures or clustered
249:328,10['  ]| candles, could not have felt more intimately the suggestiveness
249:328,11['  ]| of these objects nor have been more liable
249:328,12['  ]| at such moments to$4$ a spiritual visitation.  Pansy, as we
249:328,13['  ]| know, was almost always her companion, and of late
249:328,14['  ]| the Countess*Gemini, balancing a pink parasol, had
249:328,15['  ]| lent brilliancy to$4$ their equipage; but she still occasionally
249:328,16['  ]| found herself alone when it suited her mood
249:328,17['  ]| and where it suited the place.  On$4$ such occasions she
249:328,18['  ]| had several resorts; the most accessible of which$6#1$ perhaps
249:328,19['  ]| was a seat on$4$ the low parapet which$6#1$ edges the
249:328,20['  ]| wide grassy space before the high, cold front of Saint*John*Lateran,
249:328,21['  ]| whence you look across the Campagna
249:328,22['  ]| at the far-trailing outline of the Alban*Mount and at
249:328,23['  ]| that$6#2$ mighty plain, between, which$6#1$ is still so$5#1$ full of all
249:328,24['  ]| that$6#1$ has passed from it.  After the departure of her
249:328,25['  ]| cousin and his companions she roamed more than
249:328,26['  ]| usual; she carried her sombre spirit from one familiar
249:328,27['  ]| shrine to$4$ the other.  Even when Pansy and the Countess
249:328,28['  ]| were with her she felt the touch of a vanished 
249:328,29['  ]| world.  The carriage, leaving the wall of Rome behind,
249:328,30['  ]| rolled through narrow lanes where the wild honeysuckle
249:328,31['  ]| had begun to$9$ tangle itself in$4$ the hedges, or
249:328,32['  ]| waited for$4$ her in$4$ quiet places where the fields lay near,
249:329,01['  ]| while she strolled further and further over the flower-freckled
249:329,02['  ]| turf, or sat on$4$ a stone that$6#1$ had once had a use
249:329,03['  ]| and gazed through the veil of her personal sadness at
249:329,04['  ]| the splendid sadness of the scene ~~ at the dense,
249:329,05['  ]| warm light, the far gradations and soft confusions of
249:329,06['  ]| colour, the motionless shepherds in$4$ lonely attitudes,
249:329,07['  ]| the hills where the cloud-shadows had the lightness of
249:329,08['  ]| a blush.
249:329,09['  ]| On$4$ the afternoon I began with speaking of, she had
249:329,10['  ]| taken a resolution not to$9$ think of Madame*Merle; but
249:329,11['  ]| the resolution proved vain, and this lady's image hovered
249:329,12['  ]| constantly before her.  She asked herself, with an
249:329,13['  ]| almost childlike horror of the supposition, 
249:329,13@a   | whether
249:329,14@a   | to$4$ this intimate friend of several years the great historical
249:329,15@a   | epithet of \wicked\ were to$9$ be applied.  
249:329,15['  ]| She knew the
249:329,16['  ]| idea only by$4$ the Bible and other literary works; to$4$ the
249:329,17['  ]| best of her belief she had had no$2$ personal acquaintance 
249:329,18['  ]| with wickedness.  She had desired a large acquaintance
249:329,19['  ]| with human life, and in$4$ spite of her having
249:329,20['  ]| flattered herself that$3$ she cultivated it with some success
249:329,21['  ]| this elementary privilege had been denied her.
249:329,22@a   | Perhaps it was not wicked ~~ in$4$ the historic sense ~~
249:329,23@a   | to$9$ be even deeply false; for$3$ that$6#2$ was what Madame*Merle
249:329,24@a   | had been ~~ deeply, deeply, deeply.  
249:329,24['  ]| Isabel's
249:329,25['  ]| Aunt*Lydia had made this discovery long before, and
249:329,26['  ]| had mentioned it to$4$ her niece; but Isabel had flattered
249:329,27['  ]| herself at this time that$3$ she had a much richer view
249:329,28['  ]| of things, especially of the spontaneity of her own career
249:329,29['  ]| and the nobleness of her own interpretations, than
249:329,30['  ]| poor stiffly-reasoning Mrs%*Touchett.  Madame*Merle
249:329,31['  ]| had done what she wanted; she had brought about
249:329,32['  ]| the union of her two friends; a reflection which$6#1$ could
249:330,01['  ]| not fail to$9$ make it a matter of wonder that$3$ she should
249:330,02['  ]| so$5#1$ much have desired such an event.  There were
249:330,03['  ]| people who$6#1$ had the match-making passion, like$4$ the
249:330,04['  ]| votaries of art for$4$ art; but Madame*Merle, great artist
249:330,05['  ]| as she was, was scarcely one of these.  She thought too
249:330,06['  ]| ill of marriage, too ill even of life; she had desired that$6#2$
249:330,07['  ]| particular marriage but had not desired others.  She
249:330,08['  ]| had therefore had a conception of gain, and Isabel
249:330,09['  ]| asked herself 
249:330,09@a   | where she had found her profit.  
249:330,09['  ]| It took
249:330,10['  ]| her naturally a long time to$9$ discover, and even then
249:330,11['  ]| her discovery was imperfect.  It came back to$4$ her that$3$
249:330,12@a   | Madame*Merle, though she had seemed to$9$ like$1$ her
249:330,13@a   | from their first meeting at Gardencourt, had been
249:330,14@a   | doubly affectionate after Mr%*Touchett's death and
249:330,15@a   | after learning that$3$ her young friend had been subject
249:330,16@a   | to$4$ the good old man's charity.  
249:330,16['  ]| She had found her profit
249:330,17['  ]| not in$4$ the gross device of borrowing money , but in$4$ the
249:330,18['  ]| more refined idea of introducing one of her intimates
249:330,19['  ]| to$4$ the young woman's fresh and ingenuous fortune.
249:330,20['  ]| She had naturally chosen her closest intimate, and it
249:330,21['  ]| was already vivid enough to$4$ Isabel that$3$ Gilbert occupied
249:330,22['  ]| this position.  She found herself confronted in$4$ this
249:330,23['  ]| manner with the conviction that$3$ 
249:330,23@a   | the man in$4$ the world
249:330,24@a   | whom she had supposed to$9$ be the least sordid had
249:330,25@a   | married her, like$4$ a vulgar adventurer, for$4$ her money.
249:330,26['  ]| Strange to$9$ say, it had never before occurred to$4$ her; if
249:330,27['  ]| she had thought a good deal of harm of Osmond she
249:330,28['  ]| had not done him this particular injury.  This was the
249:330,29['  ]| worst she could think of, and she had been saying to$4$
249:330,30['  ]| herself that$3$ 
249:330,30@a   | the worst was still to$9$ come. A man might  
249:330,31@a   | marry a woman for$4$ her money perfectly well; the
249:330,32@a   | thing was often done.  But at least he should let her
249:331,01@a   | know.  
249:331,01['  ]| She wondered whether 
249:331,01@a   | since he had wanted 
249:331,02@a   | her money, her money would now satisfy him.  Would
249:331,03@a   | he take her money and let her go?  Ah, if Mr%*Touchett's
249:331,04@a   | great charity would but help her to-day it would
249:331,05@a   | be blessed indeed!  
249:331,05['  ]| It was not slow to$9$ occur to$4$ her that$3$
249:331,06@a   | if Madame*Merle had wished to$9$ do Gilbert a service
249:331,07@a   | his recognition to$4$ her of the boon must have lost its
249:331,08@a   | warmth.  What must be his feelings to-day in$4$ regard
249:331,09@a   | to$4$ his too zealous benefactress, and what expression
249:331,10@a   | must they have found on$4$ the part of such a master of
249:331,11@a   | irony?  
249:331,11['  ]| It is a singular, but a characteristic, fact that$3$
249:331,12['  ]| before Isabel returned from her silent drive she had
249:331,13['  ]| broken its silence by$4$ the soft exclamation:
249:331,13[A  ]| "Poor,
249:331,14[A  ]| poor Madame*Merle!"
249:331,15['  ]| Her compassion would perhaps have been justified
249:331,16['  ]| if on$4$ this same afternoon she had been concealed
249:331,17['  ]| behind one of the valuable curtains of time-softened
249:331,18['  ]| damask which$6#1$ dressed the interesting little \9salon\ of the
249:331,19['  ]| lady to$4$ whom it referred; the carefully-arranged apartment
249:331,20['  ]| to$4$ which$6#1$ we once paid a visit in$4$ company with
249:331,21['  ]| the discreet Mr%*Rosier.  In$4$ that$6#2$ apartment, towards
249:331,22['  ]| six o'clock, Gilbert*Osmond was seated, and his hostess
249:331,23['  ]| stood before him as Isabel had seen her stand on$4$
249:331,24['  ]| an occasion commemorated in$4$ this history with an
249:331,25['  ]| emphasis appropriate not so$5#1$ much to$4$ its apparent as
249:331,26['  ]| to$4$ its real importance.
249:331,27[H  ]| "I do not believe you are unhappy; I believe you like$1$
249:331,28[H  ]| it," 
249:331,28['  ]| said Madame*Merle.
249:331,29[C  ]| "Did I say I was unhappy?"  
249:331,29['  ]| Osmond asked with
249:331,30['  ]| a face grave enough to$9$ suggest that$3$ he might have been.
249:331,31[H  ]| "No$7$, but you do not say the contrary, as you ought
249:331,32[H  ]| in$4$ common gratitude."
249:332,01[C  ]| "Do not talk about gratitude," 
249:332,01['  ]| he returned dryly.
249:332,02[C  ]| "And do not aggravate me," 
249:332,02['  ]| he added in$4$ a moment.
249:332,03['  ]|
249:332,04['  ]| Madame*Merle slowly seated herself, with her arms
249:332,05['  ]| folded and her white hands arranged as a support to$4$
249:332,06['  ]| one of them and an ornament, as it were, to$4$ the other.
249:332,07['  ]| She looked exquisitely calm but impressively sad.
249:332,08[H  ]| "On$4$ your side, do not try to$9$ frighten me.  I wonder if
249:332,09[H  ]| you guess some of my thoughts."
249:332,10[C  ]| "I trouble about them no$2$ more than I can help.
249:332,11[C  ]| I have quite enough of my own."
249:332,12[H  ]| "That$6#2$ is because they are so$5#1$ delightful."
249:332,13['  ]| Osmond rested his head against the back of his
249:332,14['  ]| chair and looked at his companion with a cynical directness
249:332,15['  ]| which$6#1$ seemed also partly an expression of
249:332,16['  ]| fatigue.  
249:332,16[C  ]| "You do aggravate me," 
249:332,16['  ]| he remarked in$4$ a
249:332,17['  ]| moment.  
249:332,17[C  ]| "I am very tired."
249:332,18[H  ]| "\9Eh 9moi 9donc!\" 
249:332,18['  ]| cried Madame*Merle.
249:332,19[C  ]| "With you it is because you fatigue yourself.  With
249:332,20[C  ]| me it is not my own fault."
249:332,21[H  ]| "When I fatigue myself it is for$4$ you.  I have given
249:332,22[H  ]| you an interest.  That$6#2$ is a great gift."
249:332,23[C  ]| "Do you call it an interest?"  
249:332,23['  ]| Osmond enquired
249:332,24['  ]| with detachment.
249:332,25[H  ]| "Certainly, since it helps you to$9$ pass your time."
249:332,26[C  ]| "The time has never seemed longer to$4$ me than
249:332,27[C  ]| this winter."
249:332,28[H  ]| "You have never looked better; you have never been
249:332,29[H  ]| so$5#1$ agreeable, so$5#1$ brilliant."
249:332,30[C  ]| "Damn my brilliancy!" 
249:332,30['  ]| he thoughtfully murmured.
249:332,31[C  ]| "How little, after all, you know me!"
249:332,32[H  ]| "If I do not know you I know nothing," 
249:332,32['  ]| smiled
249:333,01['  ]| Madame*Merle.  
249:333,01[H  ]| "You have the feeling of complete
249:333,02[H  ]| success."
249:333,03[C  ]| "No$7$, I shall not have that$6#2$ till I have made you stop
249:333,04[C  ]| judging me."
249:333,05[H  ]| "I did that$6#2$ long ago.  I speak from old knowledge.
249:333,06[H  ]| But you express yourself more too."
249:333,07['  ]| Osmond just hung fire.  
249:333,07[C  ]| "I wish you would express
249:333,08[C  ]| yourself less!"
249:333,09[H  ]| "You wish to$9$ condemn me to$4$ silence?  Remember
249:333,10[H  ]| that$3$ I have never been a chatterbox.  At any rate there
249:333,11[H  ]| are three or four things I should like$1$ to$9$ say to$4$ you
249:333,12[H  ]| first.  Your wife does not know what to$9$ do with herself,"
249:333,13['  ]| she went on$5$ with a change of tone.
249:333,14[C  ]| "Pardon me; she knows perfectly.  She has a line
249:333,15[C  ]| sharply drawn.  She means to$9$ carry out her ideas."
249:333,16[H  ]| "Her ideas to-day must be remarkable."
249:333,17[C  ]| "Certainly they are.  She has more of them than
249:333,18[C  ]| ever."
249:333,19[H  ]| "She was unable to$9$ show me any this morning,"
249:333,20['  ]| said Madame*Merle.  
249:333,20[H  ]| "She seemed in$4$ a very simple,
249:333,21[H  ]| almost in$4$ a stupid, state of mind.  She was completely
249:333,22[H  ]| bewildered."
249:333,23[C  ]| "You had better say at once that$3$ she was pathetic."
249:333,24[C  ]|
249:333,25[H  ]| "Ah no$7$, I do not want to$9$ encourage you too much."
249:333,26['  ]| He still had his head against the cushion behind
249:333,27['  ]| him; the ankle of one foot rested on$4$ the other knee.
249:333,28['  ]| So$3$ he sat for$4$ a while.  
249:333,28[C  ]| "I should like$1$ to$9$ know what is
249:333,29[C  ]| the matter with you," 
249:333,29['  ]| he said at last.
249:333,30[H  ]| "The matter ~~ the matter ~~ !"  
249:333,30['  ]| And here Madame*Merle
249:333,31['  ]| stopped.  Then she went on$5$ with a sudden
249:333,32['  ]| outbreak of passion, a burst of summer thunder
249:334,01['  ]| in$4$ a clear sky:
249:334,01[H  ]| "The matter is that$3$ I would give my
249:334,02[H  ]| right hand to$9$ be able to$9$ weep, and that$3$ I can not!"
249:334,03[C  ]| "What good would it do you to$9$ weep?"
249:334,04[H  ]| "It would make me feel as I felt before I knew
249:334,05[H  ]| you."
249:334,06[C  ]| "If I have dried your tears, that$6#2$ is something.  But
249:334,07[C  ]| I have seen you shed them."
249:334,08[H  ]| "Oh, I believe you will$1$ make me cry still.  I mean
249:334,09[H  ]| make me howl like$4$ a wolf.  I have a great hope, I have
249:334,10[H  ]| a great need of that$6#2$.  I was vile this morning; I was
249:334,11[H  ]| horrid,"  
249:334,11['  ]| she said.
249:334,12[C  ]| "If Isabel was in$4$ the stupid state of mind you
249:334,13[C  ]| mention she probably did not perceive it," 
249:334,13['  ]| Osmond
249:334,14['  ]| answered.
249:334,15[H  ]| "It was precisely my devilry that$6#1$ stupefied her.
249:334,16[H  ]| I could not help it; I was full of something bad.
249:334,17[H  ]| Perhaps it was something good; I do not know.
249:334,18[H  ]| You have not only dried up$5$ my tears; you have dried up$5$
249:334,19[H  ]| my soul."
249:334,20[C  ]| "It is not I then that$6#1$ am responsible for$4$ my wife's
249:334,21[C  ]| condition," 
249:334,21['  ]| Osmond said.  
249:334,21[C  ]| "It is pleasant to$9$ think
249:334,22[C  ]| that$3$ I shall get the benefit of your influence upon$4$
249:334,23[C  ]| her.  Do not you know the soul is an immortal principle?
249:334,24[C  ]| How can it suffer alteration?"
249:334,25[H  ]| "I do not believe at all that$3$ it is an immortal principle.
249:334,26[H  ]| I believe it can perfectly be destroyed.  That$6#2$ is
249:334,27[H  ]| what has happened to$4$ mine, which$6#1$ was a very good
249:334,28[H  ]| one to$9$ start with; and it is you I have to$9$ thank for$4$
249:334,29[H  ]| it.  You are \very\ bad," 
249:334,29['  ]| she added with gravity in$4$ her
249:334,30['  ]| emphasis.
249:334,31[C  ]| "Is this the way we are to$9$ end?"  
249:334,31['  ]| Osmond asked
249:334,32['  ]| with the same studied coldness.
249:335,01[H  ]| "I do not know how we are to$9$ end.  I wish I did!
249:335,02[H  ]| How do bad people end? ~~ expecially as to$4$ their \common\
249:335,03[H  ]| crimes.  You have made me as bad as yourself."
249:335,04[C  ]| "I do not understand you.  You seem to$4$ me quite 
249:335,05[C  ]| good enough," 
249:335,05['  ]| said Osmond, his conscious indifference
249:335,06['  ]| giving an extreme effect to$4$ the words.
249:335,07['  ]| Madame*Merle's self-possession tended on$4$ the
249:335,08['  ]| contrary to$9$ diminish, and she was nearer losing
249:335,09['  ]| it than on$4$ any occasion on$4$ which$6#1$ we have had
249:335,10['  ]| the pleasure of meeting her.  The glow of her eye
249:335,11['  ]| turned sombre; her smile betrayed a painful effort.
249:335,12[H  ]| "Good enough for$4$ anything that$6#1$ I have done with myself?
249:335,13[H  ]| I suppose that$6#2$ is what you mean."
249:335,14[C  ]| "Good enough to$9$ be always charming!"  
249:335,14['  ]| Osmond
249:335,15['  ]| exclaimed, smiling too.
249:335,16[H  ]| "Oh God!"  
249:335,16['  ]| his companion murmured; and, sitting
249:335,17['  ]| there in$4$ her ripe freshness, she had recourse to$4$
249:335,18['  ]| the same gesture she had provoked on$4$ Isabel's part
249:335,19['  ]| in$4$ the morning: she bent her face and covered it
249:335,20['  ]| with her hands.
249:335,21[C  ]| "Are you going to$9$ weep after all?"  
249:335,21['  ]| Osmond asked;
249:335,22['  ]| and on$4$ her remaining motionless he went on$5$:
249:335,22[C  ]| "Have
249:335,23[C  ]| I ever complained to$4$ you?"
249:335,24['  ]| She dropped her hands quickly.  
249:335,24[H  ]| "No$7$, you have
249:335,25[H  ]| taken your revenge otherwise ~~ you have taken it
249:335,26[H  ]| on$4$ \her\."
249:335,27['  ]| Osmond threw back his head further; he looked
249:335,28['  ]| a while at the ceiling and might have been supposed
249:335,29['  ]| to$9$ be appealing, in$4$ an informal way, to$4$ the heavenly
249:335,30['  ]| powers.  
249:335,30[C  ]| "Oh, the imagination of women!  It is always
249:335,31[C  ]| vulgar, at bottom.  You talk of revenge like$4$ a third-rate
249:335,32[C  ]| novelist."
249:336,01[H  ]| "Of course you have not complained.  You have
249:336,02[H  ]| enjoyed your triumph too much."
249:336,03[C  ]| "I am rather curious to$9$ know what you call my
249:336,04[C  ]| triumph."
249:336,05[H  ]| "You have made your wife afraid of you."
249:336,06['  ]| Osmond changed his position; he leaned forward,
249:336,07['  ]| resting his elbows on$4$ his knees and looking a while
249:336,08['  ]| at a beautiful old Persian rug, at his feet.  He had an
249:336,09['  ]| air of refusing to$9$ accept any*one's valuation of anything,
249:336,10['  ]| even of time, and of preferring to$9$ abide by$4$
249:336,11['  ]| his own; a peculiarity which$6#1$ made him at moments
249:336,12['  ]| an irritating person to$9$ converse with.  
249:336,12[C  ]| "Isabel is
249:336,13[C  ]| not afraid of me, and it is not what I wish," 
249:336,13['  ]| he said
249:336,14['  ]| at last.  
249:336,14[C  ]| "To$4$ what do you want to$9$ provoke me when
249:336,15[C  ]| you say such things as that$6#2$?"
249:336,16[H  ]| "I have thought over all the harm you can do me,"
249:336,17['  ]| Madame*Merle answered.  
249:336,17[H  ]| "Your wife was afraid
249:336,18[H  ]| of me this morning, but in$4$ me it was really you she
249:336,19[H  ]| feared."
249:336,20[C  ]| "You may have said things that$6#1$ were in$4$ very
249:336,21[C  ]| bad taste; I am not responsible for$4$ that$6#2$.  I did not
249:336,22[C  ]| see the use of your going to$9$ see her at all: you are
249:336,23[C  ]| capable of acting without her.  I have not made \you\
249:336,24[C  ]| afraid of me that$3$ I can see," 
249:336,24['  ]| he went on$5$;  
249:336,24[C  ]| "how then
249:336,25[C  ]| should I have made her?  You are at least as brave.
249:336,26[C  ]| I can not think where you have picked up$5$ such rubbish;
249:336,27[C  ]| one might suppose you knew me by$4$ this time."  
249:336,27['  ]| He
249:336,28['  ]| got up$5$ as he spoke and walked to$4$ the chimney, where
249:336,29['  ]| he stood a moment bending his eye, as if he had seen
249:336,30['  ]| them for$4$ the first time, on$4$ the delicate specimens
249:336,31['  ]| of rare porcelain with which$6#1$ it was covered.  He
249:336,32['  ]| took up$5$ a small cup and held it in$4$ his hand; then,
249:337,01['  ]| still holding it and leaning his arm on$4$ the mantel,
249:337,02['  ]| he pursued:
249:337,02[C  ]| "You always see too much in$4$ everything;
249:337,03[C  ]| you overdo it; you lose sight of the real.  I am
249:337,04[C  ]| much simpler than you think."
249:337,05[H  ]| "I think you are very simple."  
249:337,05['  ]| And Madame*Merle
249:337,06['  ]| kept her eye on$4$ her cup.  
249:337,06[H  ]| "I have come to$4$
249:337,07[H  ]| that$6#2$ with time.  I judged you, as I say, of old; but
249:337,08[H  ]| it is only since your marriage that$3$ I have understood
249:337,09[H  ]| you.  I have seen better what you have been to$4$ your
249:337,10[H  ]| wife than I ever saw what you were for$4$ me.  Please
249:337,11[H  ]| be very careful of that$6#2$ precious object."
249:337,12[C  ]| "It already has a wee bit of a tiny crack," 
249:337,12['  ]| said
249:337,13['  ]| Osmond dryly as he put it down.  
249:337,13[C  ]| "If you did not
249:337,14[C  ]| understand me before I married it was cruelly rash
249:337,15[C  ]| of you to$9$ put me into such a box.  However, I took
249:337,16[C  ]| a fancy to$4$ my box myself; I thought it would be a
249:337,17[C  ]| comfortable fit.  I asked very little; I only asked that$3$
249:337,18[C  ]| she should like$1$ me."
249:337,19[H  ]| "That$3$ she should like$1$ you so$5#1$ much!"
249:337,20[C  ]| "So$5#1$ much, of course; in$4$ such a case one asks the
249:337,21[C  ]| maximum.  That$3$ she should adore me, if you will$1$.
249:337,22[C  ]| Oh yes, I wanted that$3$."
249:337,23[H  ]| "I never adored you," 
249:337,23['  ]| said Madame*Merle.
249:337,24[C  ]| "Ah, but you pretended to$9$!"
249:337,25[H  ]| "It is true that$3$ you never accused me of being a
249:337,26[H  ]| comfortable fit,"  
249:337,26['  ]| Madame*Merle went on$5$.
249:337,27[C  ]| "My wife has declined ~~ declined to$9$ do anything
249:337,28[C  ]| of the sort," 
249:337,28['  ]| said Osmond.  
249:337,28[C  ]| "If you are determined to$9$
249:337,29[C  ]| make a tragedy of that$6#2$, the tragedy is hardly for$4$ her."
249:337,30[H  ]| "The tragedy is for$4$ me!"  
249:337,30['  ]| Madame*Merle exclaimed,
249:337,31['  ]| rising with a long low sigh but having a glance at
249:337,32['  ]| the same time for$4$ the contents of her mantel-shelf.
249:338,01[H  ]| "It appears that$3$ I am to$9$ be severely taught the disadvantages
249:338,02[H  ]| of a false position."
249:338,03[C  ]| "You express yourself like$4$ a sentence in$4$ a copy-book.
249:338,04[C  ]| We must look for$4$ our comfort where we can
249:338,05[C  ]| find it.  If my wife does not like$1$ me, at least my
249:338,06[C  ]| child does.  I shall look for$4$ compensations in$4$ Pansy.
249:338,07[C  ]| Fortunately I have not a fault to$9$ find with her."
249:338,08[H  ]| "Ah," 
249:338,08['  ]| she said softly, 
249:338,08[H  ]| "if I had a child ~~ !"
249:338,09['  ]| Osmond waited, and then, with a little formal
249:338,10['  ]| air, 
249:338,10[C  ]| "The children of others may be a great interest!"
249:338,11['  ]| he announced.
249:338,12[H  ]| "You are more like$4$ a copy-book than I.  There is
249:338,13[H  ]| something after all that$6#1$ holds us together."
249:338,14[C  ]| "Is it the idea of the harm I may do you?"  
249:338,14['  ]| Osmond
249:338,15['  ]| asked.
249:338,16[H  ]| "No$7$, it is the idea of the good I may do for$4$ you.
249:338,17[H  ]| It is that$6#2$," 
249:338,17['  ]| Madame*Merle pursued, 
249:338,17[H  ]| "that$6#1$ made me
249:338,18['  ]| so$5#1$ jealous of Isabel.  I want it to$9$ be \my\ work," 
249:338,18['  ]| she
249:338,19['  ]| added, with her face, which$6#1$ had grown hard and
249:338,20['  ]| bitter, relaxing to$4$ its habit of smoothness.
249:338,21['  ]| Her friend took up$5$ his hat and his umbrella, and
249:338,22['  ]| after giving the former article two or three strokes
249:338,23['  ]| with his coat-cuff, 
249:338,23[C  ]| "On$4$ the whole, I think," 
249:338,23['  ]| he said,
249:338,24[C  ]| "you had better leave it to$4$ me."
249:338,25['  ]| After he had left her she went, the first thing, and
249:338,26['  ]| lifted from the mantel-shelf the attenuated coffee-cup
249:338,27['  ]| in$4$ which$6#1$ he had mentioned the existence of a crack;
249:338,28['  ]| but she looked at it rather abstractedly.  
249:338,28[H  ]| "Have I
249:338,29[H  ]| been so$5#1$ vile all for$4$ nothing?"  
249:338,29['  ]| she vaguely wailed.
250:339,01['  ]| As the Countess*Gemini was not acquainted with the
250:339,02['  ]| ancient monuments Isabel occasionally offered to$9$
250:339,03['  ]| introduce her to$4$ these interesting relics and to$9$ give
250:339,04['  ]| their afternoon drive an antiquarian aim.  The Countess,
250:339,05['  ]| who$6#1$ professed to$9$ think her sister-in-law a prodigy
250:339,06['  ]| of learning, never made an objection, and gazed
250:339,07['  ]| at masses of Roman brickwork as patiently as if
250:339,08['  ]| they had been mounds of modern drapery.  She had
250:339,09['  ]| not the historic sense, though she had in$4$ some directions
250:339,10['  ]| the anecdotic, and as regards herself the
250:339,11['  ]| apologetic, but she was so$5#1$ delighted to$9$ be in$4$ Rome
250:339,12['  ]| that$3$ she only desired to$9$ float with the current.  She
250:339,13['  ]| would gladly have passed an hour every day in$4$ the
250:339,14['  ]| damp darkness of the Baths*of*Titus if it had been
250:339,15['  ]| a condition of her remaining at Palazzo*Roccanera.
250:339,16['  ]| Isabel, however, was not a severe cicerone; she used
250:339,17['  ]| to$9$ visit the ruins chiefly because they offered an
250:339,18['  ]| excuse for$4$ talking about other matters than the love-affairs
250:339,19['  ]| of the ladies of Florence, as to$4$ which$6#1$ her companion
250:339,20['  ]| was never wary of offering information.  It
250:339,21['  ]| must be added that$3$ during these visits the Countess
250:339,22['  ]| forbade herself every form of active research; her
250:339,23['  ]| preference was to$9$ sit in$4$ the carriage and exclaim
250:339,24['  ]| that$3$ 
250:339,24@j   | everything was most interesting.  
250:339,24['  ]| It was in$4$ this
250:339,25['  ]| manner that$3$ she had hitherto examined the Coliseum,
250:339,26['  ]| to$4$ the infinite regret of her niece, who$6#1$ ~~ with all
250:339,27['  ]| the respect that$6#1$ she owed her ~~ could not see why she
250:340,01['  ]| should not descend from the vehicle and enter the
250:340,02['  ]| building.  Pansy had so$5#1$ little chance to$9$ ramble that$3$
250:340,03['  ]| her view of the case was not wholly disinterested;
250:340,04['  ]| it may be divined that$3$ she had a secret hope that$3$,
250:340,05['  ]| once inside, her parents' guest might be induced to$9$
250:340,06['  ]| climb to$4$ the upper tiers.  There came a day when
250:340,07['  ]| the Countess announced her willingness to$9$ undertake
250:340,08['  ]| this feat ~~ a mild afternoon in$4$ March when
250:340,09['  ]| the windy month expressed itself in$4$ occasional puffs
250:340,10['  ]| of spring.  The three ladies went into the Coliseum
250:340,11['  ]| together, but Isabel left her companions to$9$ wander
250:340,12['  ]| over the place.  She had often ascended to$4$ those
250:340,13['  ]| desolate ledges from which$6#1$ the Roman crowd used
250:340,14['  ]| to$9$ bellow applause and where now the wild flowers
250:340,15['  ]| (when they are allowed) bloom in$4$ the deep crevices;
250:340,16['  ]| and to-day she felt weary and disposed to$9$ sit in$4$ the
250:340,17['  ]| despoiled arena.  It made an intermission too, for$3$
250:340,18['  ]| the Countess often asked more from one's attention
250:340,19['  ]| than she gave in$4$ return; and Isabel believed that$3$
250:340,20['  ]| when she was alone with her niece she let the dust
250:340,21['  ]| gather for$4$ a moment on$4$ the ancient scandals of
250:340,22['  ]| the Arnide.  She so$5#2$ remained below therefore, while
250:340,23['  ]| Pansy guided her undiscriminating aunt to$4$ the steep
250:340,24['  ]| brick staircase at the foot of which$6#1$ the custodian
250:340,25['  ]| unlocks the tall wooden gate.  The great enclosure
250:340,26['  ]| was half in$4$ shadow; the western sun brought out
250:340,27['  ]| the pale red tone of the great blocks of travertine ~~
250:340,28['  ]| the latent colour that$6#1$ is the only living element in$4$
250:340,29['  ]| the immense ruin.  Here and there wandered a peasant
250:340,30['  ]| or a tourist, looking up$5$ at the far sky-line where,
250:340,31['  ]| in$4$ the clear stillness, a multitude of swallows kept
250:340,32['  ]| circling and plunging.  Isabel presently became aware
250:341,01['  ]| that$3$ one of the other visitors, planted in$4$ the middle of
250:341,02['  ]| the arena, had turned his attention to$4$ her own person
250:341,03['  ]| and was looking at her with a certain little poise of
250:341,04['  ]| the head which$6#1$ she had some weeks before perceived
250:341,05['  ]| to$9$ be characteristic of baffled but indestructible
250:341,06['  ]| purpose.  Such an attitude, to-day, could belong
250:341,07['  ]| only to$4$ Mr%*Edward*Rosier; and this gentleman
250:341,08['  ]| proved in$4$ fact to$9$ have been considering the question
250:341,09['  ]| of speaking to$4$ her.  When he had assured himself
250:341,10['  ]| that$3$ she was unaccompanied he drew near, remarking
250:341,11['  ]| that$3$ 
250:341,11@l   | though she would not answer his letters
250:341,12@l   | she would perhaps not wholly close her ears to$4$ his
250:341,13@l   | spoken eloquence.  
250:341,13['  ]| She replied that$3$ 
250:341,13@a   | her stepdaughter
250:341,14@a   | was close at hand and that$3$ she could only give him
250:341,15@a   | five minutes; 
250:341,15['  ]| whereupon he took out his watch and
250:341,16['  ]| sat down upon$4$ a broken block.
250:341,17[L  ]| "It is very soon told," 
250:341,17['  ]| said Edward*Rosier.  
250:341,17[L  ]| "I have
250:341,18[L  ]| sold all my 9bibelots!"  
250:341,18['  ]| Isabel gave instinctively an
250:341,19['  ]| exclamation of horror; it was as if he had told her
250:341,20['  ]| he had had all his teeth drawn.  
250:341,20[L  ]| "I have sold them by$4$
250:341,21[L  ]| auction at the Ho^tel*Drouot," 
250:341,21['  ]| he went on$5$.  
250:341,21[L  ]| "The
250:341,22[L  ]| sale took place three days ago, and they have telegraphed
250:341,23[L  ]| me the result.  It is magnificent."
250:341,24[A  ]| "I am glad to$9$ hear it; but I wish you had kept
250:341,25[A  ]| your pretty things."
250:341,26[L  ]| "I have the money instead ~~ fifty thousand dollars.
250:341,27[L  ]| Will$1$ Mr%*Osmond think me rich enough now?"
250:341,28[A  ]| "Is it for$4$ that$6#2$ you did it?"  
250:341,28['  ]| Isabel asked gently.
250:341,29[L  ]| "For$4$ what else in$4$ the world could it be?  That$6#2$ is
250:341,30[L  ]| the only thing I think of.  I went to$4$ Paris and made
250:341,31[L  ]| my arrangements.  I could not stop for$4$ the sale; I
250:341,32[L  ]| could not have seen them going off; I think it would
250:342,01[L  ]| have killed me.  But I put them into good hands,
250:342,02[L  ]| and they brought high prices.  I should tell you I
250:342,03[L  ]| have kept my enamels.  Now I have the money in$4$
250:342,04[L  ]| my pocket, and he can not say I am poor!"  
250:342,04['  ]| the young
250:342,05['  ]| man exclaimed defiantly.
250:342,06[A  ]| "He will$1$ say now that$3$ you are not wise," 
250:342,06['  ]| said Isabel,
250:342,07['  ]| as if Gilbert*Osmond had never said this before.
250:342,08['  ]| Rosier gave her a sharp look.  
250:342,08[L  ]| "Do you mean that$3$
250:342,09[L  ]| without my 9bibelots I am nothing?  Do you mean they
250:342,10[L  ]| were the best thing about me?  That$6#2$ is what they told
250:342,11[L  ]| me in$4$ Paris; oh they were very frank about it.  But
250:342,12[L  ]| they had not seen \her\!"
250:342,13[A  ]| "My dear friend, you deserve to$9$ succeed," 
250:342,13['  ]| said
250:342,14['  ]| Isabel very kindly.
250:342,15[L  ]| "You say that$6#2$ so$5#1$ sadly that$3$ it is the same as if you
250:342,16[L  ]| said I should not."  
250:342,16['  ]| And he questioned her eyes with
250:342,17['  ]| the clear trepidation of his own.  He had the air of
250:342,18['  ]| a man who$6#1$ knows he has been the talk of Paris for$4$ a
250:342,19['  ]| week and is full half a head taller in$4$ consequence, but
250:342,20['  ]| who$6#1$ also has a painful suspicion that$3$ in$4$ spite of this
250:342,21['  ]| increase of stature one or two persons still have the
250:342,22['  ]| perversity to$9$ think him diminutive.  
250:342,22[L  ]| "I know what
250:342,23[L  ]| happened here while I was away," 
250:342,23['  ]| he went on$5$.
250:342,24[L  ]| "What does Mr%*Osmond expect after she has refused
250:342,25[L  ]| Lord*Warburton?"
250:342,26['  ]| Isabel debated.  
250:342,26[A  ]| "That$3$ she will$1$ marry another nobleman."
250:342,27[A  ]|
250:342,28[L  ]| "What other nobleman?"
250:342,29[A  ]| "One that$6#1$ he will$1$ pick out."
250:342,30['  ]| Rosier slowly got up$5$, putting his watch into his
250:342,31['  ]| waistcoat-pocket.  
250:342,31[L  ]| "You are laughing at some*one,
250:342,32[L  ]| but this time I do not think it is at me."
250:343,01[A  ]| "I did not mean to$9$ laugh," 
250:343,01['  ]| said Isabel.  
250:343,01[A  ]| "I laugh
250:343,02[A  ]| very seldom.  Now you had better go away."
250:343,03[L  ]| "I feel very safe!"  
250:343,03['  ]| Rosier declared without moving.
250:343,04@a   | This might be; but it evidently made him feel
250:343,05@a   | more so$5#2$ to$9$ make the announcement in$4$ rather a loud
250:343,06@a   | voice, balancing himself a little complacently on$4$ his
250:343,07@a   | toes and looking all round the Coliseum as if it were
250:343,08@a   | filled with an audience.  
250:343,08['  ]| Suddenly Isabel saw him
250:343,09['  ]| change colour; there was more of an audience than he
250:343,10['  ]| had suspected.  She turned and perceived that$3$ her two
250:343,11['  ]| companions had returned from their excursion.  
250:343,11[A  ]| "You
250:343,12[A  ]| must really go away,"  
250:343,12['  ]| she said quickly.
250:343,13[L  ]| "Ah, my dear lady, pity me!"  
250:343,13['  ]| Edward*Rosier
250:343,14['  ]| murmured in$4$ a voice strangely at variance with the
250:343,15['  ]| announcement I have just quoted.  And then he added
250:343,16['  ]| eargerly, like$4$ a man who$6#1$ in$4$ the midst of his misery is
250:343,17['  ]| seized by$4$ a happy thought:
250:343,17[L  ]| "Is that$6#2$ lady the Countess*Gemini?
250:343,18[L  ]| I have a great desire to$9$ be presented to$4$
250:343,19[L  ]| her."
250:343,20['  ]| Isabel looked at him a moment.  
250:343,20[A  ]| "She has no$2$ influence
250:343,21[A  ]| with her brother."
250:343,22[L  ]| "Ah, what a monster you make him out!"  
250:343,22['  ]| And
250:343,23['  ]| Rosier faced the Countess, who$6#1$ advanced, in$4$ front of
250:343,24['  ]| Pansy, with an animation partly due perhaps to$4$ the
250:343,25['  ]| fact that$3$ she perceived her sister-in-law to$9$ be engaged
250:343,26['  ]| in$4$ conversation with a very pretty young man.
250:343,27[A  ]| "I am glad you have kept your enamels!" 
250:343,27['  ]| Isabel
250:343,28['  ]| called as she left him.  She went straight to$4$ Pansy,
250:343,29['  ]| who$6#1$, on$4$ seeing Edward*Rosier, had stopped short,
250:343,30['  ]| with lowered eyes.  
250:343,30[A  ]| "We will$1$ go back to$4$ the carriage,"
250:343,31['  ]| she said gently.
250:343,32[K  ]| "Yes, it is getting late," 
250:343,32['  ]| Pansy returned more
250:344,01['  ]| gently still.  And she went on$5$ without a murmur,
250:344,02['  ]| without faltering or glancing back.
250:344,03['  ]| Isabel, however, allowing herself this last liberty,
250:344,04['  ]| saw that$3$ a meeting had immediately taken place between
250:344,05['  ]| the Countess and Mr%*Rosier.  He had removed
250:344,06['  ]| his hat and was bowing and smiling; he had evidently
250:344,07['  ]| introduced himself, while the Countess's expressive
250:344,08['  ]| back displayed to$4$ Isabel's eye a gracious inclination.
250:344,09['  ]| These facts, none the less, were presently lost to$4$ sight,
250:344,10['  ]| for$3$ Isabel and Pansy took their places again in$4$ the
250:344,11['  ]| carriage.  Pansy, who$6#1$ faced her stepmother, at first
250:344,12['  ]| kept her eyes fixed on$4$ her lap; then she raised them
250:344,13['  ]| and rested them on$4$ Isabel's.  There shone out of each
250:344,14['  ]| of them a little melancholy ray ~~ a spark of timid
250:344,15['  ]| passion which$6#1$ touched Isabel to$4$ the heart.  At the
250:344,16['  ]| same time a wave of envy passed over her soul, as
250:344,17['  ]| she compared the tremulous longing, the definite
250:344,18['  ]| ideal of the child with her own dry despair.  
250:344,18[A  ]| "Poor
250:344,19[A  ]| little Pansy!"  
250:344,19['  ]| she affectionately said.
250:344,20[K  ]| "Oh never mind!"  
250:344,20['  ]| Pansy answered in$4$ the tone of 
250:344,21['  ]| eager apology.
250:344,22['  ]| And then there was a silence; the Countess was
250:344,23['  ]| a long time coming.  
250:344,23[A  ]| "Did you show your aunt everything,
250:344,24[A  ]| and did she enjoy it?"  
250:344,24['  ]| Isabel asked at
250:344,25['  ]| last.
250:344,26[K  ]| "Yes, I showed her everything.  I think she was
250:344,27[K  ]| very much pleased."
250:344,28[A  ]| "And you are not tired, I hope."
250:344,29[K  ]| "Oh no$7$, thank you, I am not tired."
250:344,30['  ]| The Countess still remained behind, so$3$ that$3$ Isabel
250:344,31['  ]| requested the footman to$9$ 
250:344,31@a   | go into the Coliseum and
250:344,32@a   | tell her they were waiting.  
250:344,32['  ]| He presently returned
250:345,01['  ]| with the announcement that$3$ 
250:345,01@w   | the Signora*Contessa
250:345,02@w   | begged them not to$9$ wait ~~ she would come home in$4$
250:345,03@w   | a cab!
250:345,04['  ]| About a week after this lady's quick sympathies
250:345,05['  ]| had enlisted themselves with Mr%*Rosier, Isabel, going
250:345,06['  ]| rather late to$9$ dress for$4$ dinner, found Pansy sitting in$4$
250:345,07['  ]| her room.  The girl seemed to$9$ have been awaiting her;
250:345,08['  ]| she got up$5$ from her low chair.  
250:345,08[K  ]| "Pardon my taking
250:345,09[K  ]| the liberty," 
250:345,09['  ]| she said in$4$ a small voice.  
250:345,09[K  ]| "It will$1$ be
250:345,10[K  ]| the last ~~ for$4$ some time."
250:345,11['  ]| Her voice was strange, and her eyes, widely opened,
250:345,12['  ]| had an excited, frightened look.  
250:345,12[A  ]| "You are not going
250:345,13[A  ]| away!"  
250:345,13['  ]| Isabel exclaimed.
250:345,14[K  ]| "I am going to$4$ the convent."
250:345,15[A  ]| "To$4$ the convent?"
250:345,16['  ]| Pansy drew nearer, till she was near enough to$9$ put
250:345,17['  ]| her arms round Isabel and rest her head on$4$ her shoulder.
250:345,18['  ]| She stood this way a moment, perfectly still; but
250:345,19['  ]| her companion could feel her tremble.  The quiver of 
250:345,20['  ]| her little body expressed everything she was unable to$9$
250:345,21['  ]| say.  Isabel nevertheless pressed her.  
250:345,21[A  ]| "Why are you
250:345,22[A  ]| going to$4$ the convent?"
250:345,23[K  ]| "Because papa thinks it best.  He says a young girl is
250:345,24[K  ]| better, every now and then, for$4$ making a little retreat.
250:345,25[K  ]| He says the world, always the world, is very bad for$4$ a
250:345,26[K  ]| young girl.  This is just a chance for$4$ a little seclusion
250:345,27[K  ]| ~~ a little reflexion."  
250:345,27['  ]| Pansy spoke in$4$ short detached
250:345,28['  ]| sentences, as if she could scarce trust herself; and then
250:345,29['  ]| she added with a triumph of self-control:
250:345,29[K  ]| "I think
250:345,30[K  ]| papa is right; I have been so$5#1$ much in$4$ the world this
250:345,31[K  ]| winter."
250:345,32['  ]| Her announcement had a strange effect on$4$ Isabel;
250:346,01['  ]| it seemed to$9$ carry a larger meaning than the girl herself
250:346,02['  ]| knew.  
250:346,02[A  ]| "When was this decided?"  
250:346,02['  ]| she asked.
250:346,03[A  ]| "I have heard nothing of it."
250:346,04[K  ]| "Papa told me half an hour ago; he thought it
250:346,05[K  ]| better it should not be too much talked about in$4$ advance.
250:346,06[K  ]| Madame*Catherine is to$9$ come for$4$ me at a
250:346,07[K  ]| quarter past seven, and I am only to$9$ take two frocks.
250:346,08[K  ]| It is only for$4$ a few weeks; I am sure it will$1$ be very
250:346,09[K  ]| good.  I shall find all those ladies who$6#1$ used to$9$ be so$5#1$
250:346,10[K  ]| kind to$4$ me, and I shall see the little girls who$6#1$ are being
250:346,11[K  ]| educated.  I am very fond of little girls," 
250:346,11['  ]| said Pansy
250:346,12['  ]| with an effect of diminutive grandeur.  
250:346,12[K  ]| "And I am also
250:346,13[K  ]| very fond of Mother*Catherine.  I shall be very quiet
250:346,14[K  ]| and think a great deal."
250:346,15['  ]| Isabel listened to$4$ her, holding her breath; she was
250:346,16['  ]| almost awe-struck.  
250:346,16[A  ]| "Think of \me\ sometimes."
250:346,17[K  ]| "Ah, come and see me soon!"  
250:346,17['  ]| cried Pansy; and
250:346,18['  ]| the cry was very different from the heroic remarks of
250:346,19['  ]| which$6#1$ she had just delivered herself.
250:346,20['  ]| Isabel could say nothing more; she understood
250:346,21['  ]| nothing; she only felt how little she yet knew her
250:346,22['  ]| husband.  Her answer to$4$ his daughter was a long,
250:346,23['  ]| tender kiss.
250:346,24['  ]| Half an hour later she learned from her maid that$3$
250:346,25@v   | Madame*Catherine had arrived in$4$ a cab and had
250:346,26@v   | departed again with the signorina.  
250:346,26['  ]| On$4$ going to$4$ the
250:346,27['  ]| drawing-room before dinner she found the Countess*Gemini
250:346,28['  ]| alone, and this lady characterised the incident
250:346,29['  ]| by$4$ exclaiming, with a wonderful toss of the head, 
250:346,29[J  ]| "\9En
250:346,30[J  ]| 9voila`, 9ma 9che=re, 9une 9pose!\"  
250:346,30['  ]| But if it was an affectation
250:346,31['  ]| she was at a loss to$9$ see what her husband affected.
250:346,32['  ]| She could only dimly perceive that$3$ he had more traditions
250:347,01['  ]| than she supposed.  It had become her habit to$9$ be
250:347,02['  ]| so$5#1$ careful as to$4$ what she said to$4$ him that$3$, strange as
250:347,03['  ]| it may appear, she hesitated, for$4$ several minutes after
250:347,04['  ]| he had come in$5$, to$9$ allude to$4$ his daughter's sudden
250:347,05['  ]| departure: she spoke of it only after they were seated
250:347,06['  ]| at table.  But she had forbidden herself ever to$9$ ask
250:347,07['  ]| Osmond a question.  All she could do was to$9$ make
250:347,08['  ]| a declaration, and there was one that$6#1$ came very naturally.
250:347,09[A  ]| "I shall miss Pansy very much."
250:347,10['  ]| He looked a while, with his head inclined a little,
250:347,11['  ]| at the basket of flowers in$4$ the middle of the table.
250:347,12[C  ]| "Ah yes," 
250:347,12['  ]| he said at last, 
250:347,12[C  ]| "I had thought of that$6#2$.
250:347,13[C  ]| You must go and see her, you know; but not too often.
250:347,14[C  ]| I dare say you wonder why I sent her to$4$ the good sisters;
250:347,15[C  ]| but I doubt if I can make you understand.  It
250:347,16[C  ]| does not matter; do not trouble yourself about it.  That$6#2$ is
250:347,17[C  ]| why I had not spoken of it.  I did not believe you would
250:347,18[C  ]| enter into it.  But I have always had the idea; I have always
250:347,19[C  ]| thought it a part of the education of one's daughter.
250:347,20[C  ]| One's daughter should be fresh and fair; she
250:347,21[C  ]| should be innocent and gentle.  With the manners of
250:347,22[C  ]| the present time she is liable to$9$ become so$5#1$ dusty and
250:347,23[C  ]| crumpled.  Pansy is a little dusty, a little dishevelled;
250:347,24[C  ]| she has knocked about too much.  This bustling, pushing
250:347,25[C  ]| rabble that$6#1$ calls itself society ~~ one should take
250:347,26[C  ]| her out of it occasionally.  Convents are very quiet,
250:347,27[C  ]| very convenient, very salutary.  I like$1$ to$9$ think of her
250:347,28[C  ]| there, in$4$ the old garden, under the arcade, among
250:347,29[C  ]| those tranquil virtuous women.  Many of them are
250:347,30[C  ]| gentlewomen born; several of them are noble.  She
250:347,31[C  ]| will$1$ have her books and her drawing, she will$1$ have
250:347,32[C  ]| her piano.  I have made the most liberal arrangements.
250:348,01[C  ]| There is to$9$ be nothing ascetic; there is just to$9$ be a
250:348,02[C  ]| certain little sense of sequestration.  She will$1$ have time
250:348,03[C  ]| to$9$ think, and there is something I want her to$9$ think
250:348,04[C  ]| about."  
250:348,04['  ]| Osmond spoke deliberately, reasonably,
250:348,05['  ]| still with his head on$4$ one side, as if he were looking
250:348,06['  ]| at the basket of flowers.  His tone, however, was that$6#2$
250:348,07['  ]| of a man not so$5#1$ much offering an explanation as
250:348,08['  ]| putting a thing into words ~~ almost into pictures ~~
250:348,09['  ]| to$9$ see, himself, how it would look.  He considered a
250:348,10['  ]| while the picture he had evoked and seemed greatly
250:348,11['  ]| pleased with it.  And then he went on$5$:
250:348,11[C  ]| "The Catholics
250:348,12[C  ]| are very wise after all.  The convent is a great
250:348,13[C  ]| institution; we can not do without it; it corresponds
250:348,14[C  ]| to$4$ an essential need in$4$ families, in$4$ society.  It is a
250:348,15[C  ]| school of good manners; it is a school of repose.  Oh
250:348,16[C  ]| I do not want to$9$ detach my daughter from the world,"
250:348,17['  ]| he added; 
250:348,17[C  ]| "I do not want to$9$ make her fix her thoughts
250:348,18[C  ]| on$4$ any other.  This one is very well, as \she\ should
250:348,19[C  ]| take it, and she may think of it as much as she likes.
250:348,20[C  ]| Only she must think of it in$4$ the right way."
250:348,21['  ]| Isabel gave an extreme attention to$4$ this little sketch;
250:348,22['  ]| she found it indeed intensely interesting.  It seemed
250:348,23['  ]| to$9$ show her how far her husband's desire to$9$ be effective
250:348,24['  ]| was capable of going ~~ to$4$ the point of playing
250:348,25['  ]| theoretic tricks on$4$ the delicate organism of his
250:348,26['  ]| daughter.  She could not understand his purpose,
250:348,27['  ]| no$7$ ~~ not wholly; but she understood it better than
250:348,28['  ]| he supposed or desired, inasmuch as she was convinced
250:348,29['  ]| that$3$ the whole proceeding was an elaborate
250:348,30['  ]| mystification, addressed to$4$ herself and destined to$9$
250:348,31['  ]| act upon$4$ her imagination.  
250:348,31@a   | He had wanted to$9$ do
250:348,32@a   | something sudden and arbitrary, something unexpected
250:349,01@a   | and refined; to$9$ mark the difference between
250:349,02@a   | his sympathies and her own, and show that$3$ if he
250:349,03@a   | regarded his daughter as a precious work of art it
250:349,04@a   | was natural he should be more and more careful
250:349,05@a   | about the finishing touches.  If he wished to$9$ be effective
250:349,06@a   | he had succeeded; 
250:349,06['  ]| the incident struck a chill
250:349,07['  ]| into Isabel's heart.  
250:349,07@a   | Pansy had known the convent in$4$
250:349,08@a   | her childhood and had found a happy home there;
250:349,09@a   | she was fond of the good sisters, who$6#1$ were very fond
250:349,10@a   | of her, and there was therefore for$4$ the moment no$2$
250:349,11@a   | definite hardship in$4$ her lot.  But all the same the
250:349,12@a   | girl had taken fright; the impression her father
250:349,13@a   | desired to$9$ make would evidently be sharp enough.
250:349,14['  ]| The old Protestant tradition had never faded from
250:349,15['  ]| Isabel's imagination, and as her thoughts attached
250:349,16['  ]| themselves to$4$ this striking example of her husband's
250:349,17['  ]| genius ~~ she sat looking, like$4$ him, at the basket
250:349,18['  ]| of flowers ~~ poor little Pansy became the heroine of
250:349,19['  ]| a tragedy.  Osmond wished it to$9$ be known that$3$ he
250:349,20['  ]| shrank from nothing, and his wife found it hard to$9$
250:349,21['  ]| pretend to$9$ eat her dinner.  There was a certain relief
250:349,22['  ]| presently , in$4$ hearing the high, strained voice of her
250:349,23['  ]| sister-in-law.  The Countess too, apparently, had
250:349,24['  ]| been thinking the thing out, but had arrived at a
250:349,25['  ]| different conclusion from Isabel.
250:349,26[J  ]| "It is very absurd, my dear Osmond," 
250:349,26['  ]| she said
250:349,27[J  ]| "to$9$ invent so$5#1$ many pretty reasons for$4$ poor Pansy's
250:349,28[J  ]| banishment.  Why do not you say at once that$3$ you
250:349,29[J  ]| want to$9$ get her out of my way?  Have not you discovered
250:349,30[J  ]| that$3$ I think very well of Mr%*Rosier?  I do
250:349,31[J  ]| indeed; he seems to$4$ me \8simpaticissimo\.  He has made
250:349,32[J  ]| me believe in$4$ true love; I never did before!  Of
250:350,01[J  ]| course you have made up$5$ your mind that$3$ with those
250:350,02[J  ]| convictions I am dreadful company for$4$ Pansy."
250:350,03['  ]| Osmond took a sip of a glass of wine; he looked
250:350,04['  ]| perfectly good-humoured.  
250:350,04[C  ]| "My dear Amy," 
250:350,04['  ]| he
250:350,05['  ]| answered, smiling as if he were uttering a piece of
250:350,06['  ]| gallantry, 
250:350,06[C  ]| "I do not know anythng about your convictions,
250:350,07[C  ]| but if I suspected that$3$ they interfere with
250:350,08[C  ]| mine it would be much simpler to$9$ banish \you\."
251:351,01['  ]| The Countess was not banished, but she felt the
251:351,02['  ]| insecurity of her tenure of her brother's hospitality.
251:351,03['  ]| A week after this incident Isabel received a telegram
251:351,04['  ]| from England, dated from Gardencourt and bearing
251:351,05['  ]| the stamp of Mrs%*Touchett's authorship.  
251:351,05[G  ]| "Ralph
251:351,06[G  ]| cannot last many days," 
251:351,06['  ]| it ran, 
251:351,06[G  ]| "and if convenient
251:351,07[G  ]| would like$1$ to$9$ see you.  Wishes me to$9$ say that$3$ you
251:351,08[G  ]| must come only if you have not other duties.  Say, for$4$
251:351,09[G  ]| myself, that$3$ you used to$9$ talk a good deal about your
251:351,10[G  ]| duty and to$9$ wonder what it was; shall be curious
251:351,11[G  ]| to$9$ see whether you have found it out.  Ralph is really
251:351,12[G  ]| dying, and there is no$2$ other company."  
251:351,12['  ]| Isabel was
251:351,13['  ]| prepared for$4$ this news, having received from Henrietta*Stackpole
251:351,14['  ]| a detailed account of her journey to$4$
251:351,15['  ]| England with her appreciative patient.  Ralph had
251:351,16['  ]| arrived more dead than alive, but she had managed
251:351,17['  ]| to$9$ convey him to$4$ Gardencourt, where he had taken to$4$
251:351,18['  ]| his bed, which$6#1$, as Miss*Stackpole wrote, 
251:351,18@i   | he evidently
251:351,19@i   | would never leave again.  
251:351,19['  ]| She added that$3$ 
251:351,19@i   | she
251:351,20@i   | had really had two patients on$4$ her hands instead of
251:351,21@i   | one, inasmuch as Mr%*Goodwood, who$6#1$ had been of no$2$
251:351,22@i   | earthly use, was quite as ailing, in$4$ a different way,
251:351,23@i   | as Mr%*Touchett.  
251:351,23['  ]| Afterwards she wrote that$3$ 
251:351,23@i   | she had
251:351,24@i   | been obliged to$9$ surrender the field to$4$ Mrs%*Touchett,
251:351,25@i   | who$6#1$ had just returned from America and had 
251:351,26@i   | promptly given her to$9$ understand that$3$ she did not
251:351,27@i   | wish any interviewing at Gardencourt.  
251:351,27['  ]| Isabel had
251:352,01['  ]| written to$4$ her aunt shortly after Ralph came to$4$
251:352,02['  ]| Rome, letting her know of his critical condition
251:352,03['  ]| and suggesting that$3$ she should lose no$2$ time in$4$ returning
251:352,04['  ]| to$4$ Europe.  Mrs%*Touchett had telegraphed
251:352,05['  ]| an acknowledgement of this admonition, and the only
251:352,06['  ]| further news Isabel received from her was the second
251:352,07['  ]| telegram I have just quoted.
251:352,08['  ]| Isabel stood a moment looking at the latter missive;
251:352,09['  ]| then, thrusting it into her pocket, she went straight
251:352,10['  ]| to$4$ the door of her husband's study.  Here she again
251:352,11['  ]| paused an instant, after which$6#1$ she opened the door
251:352,12['  ]| and went in$5$.  Osmond was seated at the table near
251:352,13['  ]| the window with a folio volume before him, propped
251:352,14['  ]| against a pile of books.  This volume was open at
251:352,15['  ]| a page of small coloured plates, and Isabel presently
251:352,16['  ]| saw that$3$ he had been copying from it the drawing
251:352,17['  ]| of an antique coin.  A box of water-colours and fine
251:352,18['  ]| brushes lay before him, and he had already transferred
251:352,19['  ]| to$4$ a sheet of immaculate paper the delicate,
251:352,20['  ]| finely-tinted disk.  His back was turned toward the
251:352,21['  ]| door, but he recognised his wife without looking
251:352,22['  ]| round.
251:352,23[A  ]| "Excuse me for$4$ disturbing you," 
251:352,23['  ]| she said.
251:352,24[C  ]| "When I come to$4$ your room I always knock,"
251:352,25['  ]| he answered, going on$5$ with his work.
251:352,26[A  ]| "I forgot; I had something else to$9$ think of.  My
251:352,27[A  ]| cousin is dying."
251:352,28[C  ]| "Ah, I do not believe that$6#2$," 
251:352,28['  ]| said Osmond, looking
251:352,29['  ]| at his drawing through a magnifying glass.  
251:352,29[C  ]| "He was
251:352,30[C  ]| dying when we married; he will$1$ outlive us all."
251:352,31['  ]| Isabel gave herself no$2$ time, no$2$ thought, to$9$ appreciate
251:352,32['  ]| the careful cynicism of this declaration; she
251:353,01['  ]| simply went on$5$ quickly, full of her own intention:
251:353,02[A  ]| "My aunt has telegraphed me; I must go to$4$
251:353,03[A  ]| Gardencourt."
251:353,04[C  ]| "Why must you go to$4$ Gardencourt?"  
251:353,04['  ]| Osmond
251:353,05['  ]| asked in$4$ the tone of impartial curiosity.
251:353,06[A  ]| "To$9$ see Ralph before he dies."
251:353,07['  ]| To$4$ this, for$4$ some time, he made no$2$ rejoinder; he
251:353,08['  ]| continued to$9$ give his chief attention to$4$ his work,
251:353,09['  ]| which$6#1$ was of a sort that$6#1$ would brook no$2$ negligence.
251:353,10[C  ]| "I do not see the need of it," 
251:353,10['  ]| he said at last.  
251:353,10[C  ]| "He
251:353,11[C  ]| came to$9$ see you here.  I did not like$1$ that$6#2$; I thought
251:353,12[C  ]| his being in$4$ Rome a great mistake.  But I tolerated
251:353,13[C  ]| it because it was to$9$ be the last time you should see
251:353,14[C  ]| him.  Now you tell me it is not to$9$ have been the
251:353,15[C  ]| last.  Ah, you are not grateful!"
251:353,16[A  ]| "What am I to$9$ be grateful for$4$?"
251:353,17['  ]| Gilbert*Osmond laid down his little implements,
251:353,18['  ]| blew a speck of dust from his drawing, slowly got
251:353,19['  ]| up$5$, and for$4$ the first time looked at his wife.  
251:353,19[C  ]| "For$4$
251:353,20[C  ]| my not having interfered while he was here."
251:353,21[A  ]| "Oh yes, I am.  I remember perfectly how distinctly
251:353,22[A  ]| you let me know you did not like$1$ it.  I was
251:353,23[A  ]| very glad when he went away."
251:353,24[C  ]| "Leave him alone then.  Do not run after him."
251:353,25['  ]| Isabel turned her eyes away from him; they rested
251:353,26['  ]| upon$4$ his little drawing.  
251:353,26[A  ]| "I must go to$4$ England,"
251:353,27['  ]| she said, with a full consciousness that$3$ her tone might
251:353,28['  ]| strike an irritable man of taste as stupidly obstinate.
251:353,29[C  ]| "I shall not like$1$ it if you do," 
251:353,29['  ]| Osmond remarked.
251:353,30[A  ]| "Why should I mind that$6#2$?  You will$1$ not like$1$ it if
251:353,31[A  ]| I do not.  You like$1$ nothing I do or do not do.  You
251:353,32[A  ]| pretend to$9$ think I lie."
251:354,01['  ]| Osmond turned slightly pale; he gave a cold
251:354,02['  ]| smile.  
251:354,02[C  ]| "That$6#2$ is why you must go then?  Not to$9$ see
251:354,03[C  ]| your cousin, but to$9$ take a revenge on$4$ me."
251:354,04[A  ]| "I know nothing about revenge."
251:354,05[C  ]| "I do," 
251:354,05['  ]| said Osmond.  
251:354,05[C  ]| "Do not give me an occasion."
251:354,06[C  ]|
251:354,07[A  ]| "You are only too eager to$9$ take one.  You wish
251:354,08[A  ]| immensely that$3$ I would commit some folly."
251:354,09[C  ]| "I should be gratified in$4$ that$6#2$ case if you disobeyed
251:354,10[C  ]| me."
251:354,11[A  ]| "If I disobeyed you?"  
251:354,11['  ]| said Isabel in$4$ a low tone
251:354,12['  ]| which$6#1$ had the effect of mildness.
251:354,13[C  ]| "Let it be clear.  If you leave Rome to-day it will$1$
251:354,14[C  ]| be a piece of the most deliberate, the most calculated,
251:354,15[C  ]| opposition."
251:354,16[A  ]| "How can you call it calculated?  I received my
251:354,17[A  ]| aunt's telegram but three minutes ago."
251:354,18[C  ]| "You calculate rapidly; it is a great accomplishment.
251:354,19[C  ]| I do not see why we should prolong our discussion;
251:354,20[C  ]| you know my wish."  
251:354,20['  ]| And he stood there
251:354,21['  ]| as if he expected to$9$ see her withdraw.
251:354,22['  ]| But she never moved; she could not move, strange
251:354,23['  ]| as it may seem; she still wished to$9$ justify herself;
251:354,24['  ]| he had the power, in$4$ an extraordinary degree, of
251:354,25['  ]| making her feel this need.  There was something
251:354,26['  ]| in$4$ her imagination he could always appeal to$4$ against
251:354,27['  ]| her judgement.  
251:354,27[A  ]| "You have no$2$ reason for$4$ such a wish,"
251:354,28['  ]| said Isabel, 
251:354,28[A  ]| "and I have every reason for$4$ going.  I can not
251:354,29[A  ]| tell you how unjust you seem to$4$ me.  But I think
251:354,30[A  ]| you know.  It is your own opposition that$6#1$ is calculated.
251:354,31[A  ]| It is malignant."
251:354,32['  ]| She had never uttered her worst thought to$4$ her
251:355,01['  ]| husband before, and the sensation of hearing it was
251:355,02['  ]| evidently new to$4$ Osmond.  But he showed no$2$ surprise,
251:355,03['  ]| and his coolness was apparently a proof that$3$ 
251:355,04['  ]| he had believed his wife would in$4$ fact be unable to$9$
251:355,05['  ]| resist for*ever his ingenious endeavour to$9$ draw her out.
251:355,06[C  ]| "It is all the more intense then," 
251:355,06['  ]| he answered.
251:355,07['  ]| And he added almost as if he were giving her a
251:355,08['  ]| friendly counsel:
251:355,08[C  ]| "This is a very important matter."
251:355,09['  ]| She recognised that$6#2$; she was fully conscious of the
251:355,10['  ]| weight of the occasion; she knew that$3$ between them
251:355,11['  ]| they had arrived at a crisis.  Its gravity made her
251:355,12['  ]| careful; she said nothing, and he went on$5$.  
251:355,12[C  ]| "You
251:355,13[C  ]| say I have no$2$ reason?  I have the very best.  I dislike,
251:355,14[C  ]| from the bottom of my soul, what you intend to$9$ do.
251:355,15[C  ]| It is dishonourable; it is indelicate; it is indecent.
251:355,16[C  ]| Your cousin is nothing whatever to$4$ me, and I am
251:355,17[C  ]| under no$2$ obligation to$9$ make concessions to$4$ him.
251:355,18[C  ]| I have already made the very handsomest.  Your relations
251:355,19[C  ]| with him, while he was here, kept me on$4$
251:355,20[C  ]| pins and needles; but I let that$6#2$ pass, because from
251:355,21[C  ]| week to$4$ week I expected him to$9$ go.  I have never liked
251:355,22[C  ]| him and he has never liked me.  That$6#2$ is why you
251:355,23[C  ]| like$1$ him ~~ because he hates me," 
251:355,23['  ]| said Osmond
251:355,24['  ]| with a quick, barely audible tremor in$4$ his voice.
251:355,25[C  ]| "I have an ideal of what my wife should do and should
251:355,26[C  ]| not do.  She should not travel across Europe alone,
251:355,27[C  ]| in$4$ defiance of my deepest desire, to$9$ sit at the bed-side
251:355,28[C  ]| of other men.  Your cousin is nothing to$4$ you;
251:355,29[C  ]| he is nothing to$4$ us.  You smile most expressively
251:355,30[C  ]| when I talk about \us\, but I assure you that$3$ \we\,\we\,
251:355,31[C  ]| Mrs%*Osmond, is all I know.  I take our marriage
251:355,32[C  ]| seriously; you appear to$9$ have found a way of not
251:356,01[C  ]| doing so$5#2$.  I am not aware that$3$ we are divorced or
251:356,02[C  ]| separated; for$4$ me we are indissolubly united.  You
251:356,03[C  ]| are nearer to$4$ me than any human creature, and I am
251:356,04[C  ]| nearer to$4$ you.  It may be a disagreeable proximity;
251:356,05[C  ]| it is one, at any rate, of our own deliberate making.
251:356,06[C  ]| You do not like$1$ to$9$ be reminded of that$6#2$, I know; but
251:356,07[C  ]| I am perfectly willing, because ~~ because ~"  
251:356,07['  ]| And
251:356,08['  ]| he paused a moment, looking as if he had something
251:356,09['  ]| to$9$ say which$6#1$ would be very much to$4$ the point.
251:356,10[C  ]| "Because I think we should accept the consequences
251:356,11[C  ]| of our actions, and what I value most in$4$ life is the
251:356,12[C  ]| honour of a thing!"
251:356,13['  ]| He spoke gravely and almost gently; the accent
251:356,14['  ]| of sarcasm had dropped out of his tone.  It had
251:356,15['  ]| a gravity which$6#1$ checked his wife's quick emotion;
251:356,16['  ]| the resolution with which$6#1$ she had entered the room
251:356,17['  ]| found itself caught in$4$ a mesh of fine threads.  His
251:356,18['  ]| last words were not a command, they constituted
251:356,19['  ]| a kind of appeal; and, though she felt that$3$ any
251:356,20['  ]| expression of respect on$4$ his part could only be a refinement 
251:356,21['  ]| of egotism, they represented something
251:356,22['  ]| transcendent and absolute, like$4$ the sign of the cross
251:356,23['  ]| or the flag of one's country.  He spoke in$4$ the name
251:356,24['  ]| of something sacred and precious ~~ the observance
251:356,25['  ]| of a magnificent form.  They were as perfectly
251:356,26['  ]| apart in$4$ feeling as two disillusioned lovers had ever
251:356,27['  ]| been; but they had never yet separated in$4$ act.
251:356,28['  ]| Isabel had not changed; her old passion for$4$ justice
251:356,29['  ]| still abode within her; and now, in$4$ the very thick
251:356,30['  ]| of her sense of her husband's blasphemous sophistry,
251:356,31['  ]| it began to$9$ throb to$4$ a tune which$6#1$ for$4$ a moment
251:356,32['  ]| promised him the victory.  It came over her that$3$ in$4$
251:357,01['  ]| his wish to$9$ preserve appearances he was after all
251:357,02['  ]| sincere, and that$3$ this, as far as it went, was a merit.
251:357,03['  ]| Ten minutes before she had felt all the joy of irreflective
251:357,04['  ]| action ~~ a joy to$4$ which$6#1$ she had so$5#1$ long
251:357,05['  ]| been a stranger; but action had been suddenly
251:357,06['  ]| changed to$4$ slow renunciation, transformed by$4$ the
251:357,07['  ]| blight of Osmond's touch.  If she must renounce,
251:357,08['  ]| however, she would let him know she was a victim
251:357,09['  ]| rather than a dupe.  
251:357,09[A  ]| "I know you are a master of
251:357,10[A  ]| the art of mockery," 
251:357,10['  ]| she said.  
251:357,10[A  ]| "How can you speak
251:357,11[A  ]| of an indissoluble union ~~ how can you speak of
251:357,12[A  ]| your being contented?  Where is our union when
251:357,13[A  ]| you accuse me of falsity?  Where is your contentment
251:357,14[A  ]| when you have nothing but hideous suspicion
251:357,15[A  ]| in$4$ your heart?"
251:357,16[C  ]| "It is in$4$ our living decently together, in$4$ spite of
251:357,17[C  ]| such drawbacks."
251:357,18[A  ]| "We do not live decently together!" 
251:357,18['  ]| cried Isabel.
251:357,19['  ]|
251:357,20[C  ]| "Indeed we do not if you go to$4$ England."
251:357,21[A  ]| "That$6#2$ is very little; that$6#2$ is nothing.  I might do
251:357,22[A  ]| much more."
251:357,23['  ]| He raised his eyebrows and even his shoulders a
251:357,24['  ]| little: he had lived long enough in$4$ Italy to$9$ catch
251:357,25['  ]| this trick.  
251:357,25[C  ]| "Ah, if you have come to$9$ threaten me I
251:357,26[C  ]| prefer my drawing."  
251:357,26['  ]| And he walked back to$4$ his
251:357,27['  ]| table, where he took up$5$ the sheet of paper on$4$ which$6#1$
251:357,28['  ]| he had been working and stood studying it.
251:357,29[A  ]| "I suppose that$3$ if I go you will$1$ not expect me to$9$
251:357,30[A  ]| come back," 
251:357,30['  ]| said Isabel.
251:357,31['  ]| He turned quickly round, and she could see this
251:357,32['  ]| movement at least was not designed.  He looked at
251:358,01['  ]| her a little, and then, 
251:358,01[C  ]| "Are you out of your mind?"
251:358,02['  ]| he enquired.
251:358,03[A  ]| "How can it be anything but a rupture?" 
251:358,03['  ]| she
251:358,04['  ]| went on$5$; 
251:358,04[A  ]| "especially if all you say is true?"  
251:358,04['  ]| She
251:358,05['  ]| was unable to$9$ see how it could be anything but a
251:358,06['  ]| rupture; she sincerely wished to$9$ know what else it
251:358,07['  ]| might be.
251:358,08['  ]| He sat down before his table.  
251:358,08[C  ]| "I really can not
251:358,09[C  ]| argue with you on$4$ the hypothesis of your defying
251:358,10[C  ]| me," 
251:358,10['  ]| he said.  And he took up$5$ one of his little
251:358,11['  ]| brushes again.
251:358,12['  ]| She lingered but a moment longer; long enough to$9$
251:358,13['  ]| embrace with her eye his whole deliberately indifferent
251:358,14['  ]| yet most expressive figure; after which$6#1$ she quickly
251:358,15['  ]| left the room.  Her faculties, her energy, her passion,
251:358,16['  ]| were all dispersed again; she felt as if a cold, dark
251:358,17['  ]| mist had suddenly encompassed her.  Osmond possessed
251:358,18['  ]| in$4$ a supreme degree the art of eliciting any
251:358,19['  ]| weakness.  On$4$ her way back to$4$ her room she found
251:358,20['  ]| the Countess*Gemini standing in$4$ the open doorway of
251:358,21['  ]| a little parlour in$4$ which$6#1$ a small collection of heterogeneous
251:358,22['  ]| books had been arranged.  The Countess had
251:358,23['  ]| an open volume in$4$ her hand; she appeared to$9$ have
251:358,24['  ]| been glancing down a page which$6#1$ failed to$9$ strike her
251:358,25['  ]| as interesting.  At the sound of Isabel's step she raised
251:358,26['  ]| her head.
251:358,27[J  ]| "Ah my dear," 
251:358,27['  ]| she said, 
251:358,27[J  ]| "you, who$6#1$ are so$5#1$ literary,
251:358,28[J  ]| do tell me some amusing book to$9$ read!  Everything
251:358,29[J  ]| here is of a dreariness ~~ !  Do you think this would
251:358,30[J  ]| do me any good?"
251:358,31['  ]| Isabel glanced at the title of the volume she held
251:358,32['  ]| out, but without reading or understand it.  
251:358,32[A  ]| "I am
251:359,01[A  ]| afraid I can not advise you.  I have had bad news.  My
251:359,02[A  ]| cousin, Ralph*Touchett, is dying."
251:359,03['  ]| The Countess threw down her book.  
251:359,03[J  ]| "Ah, he was
251:359,04[J  ]| so$5#1$ 8simpatico.  I am awfully sorry for$4$ you."
251:359,05[A  ]| "You would be sorrier still if you knew."
251:359,06[J  ]| "What is there to$9$ know?  You look very badly,"
251:359,07['  ]| the Countess added.  
251:359,07[J  ]| "You must have been with
251:359,08[J  ]| Osmond."
251:359,09['  ]| Half an hour before Isabel would have listened
251:359,10['  ]| very coldly to$4$ an intimation that$3$ she should ever feel
251:359,11['  ]| a desire for$4$ the sympathy of her sister-in-law, and
251:359,12['  ]| there can be no$2$ better proof of her present embarrassment
251:359,13['  ]| than the fact that$3$ she almost clutched at this
251:359,14['  ]| lady's fluttering attention.  
251:359,14[A  ]| "I have been with Osmond,"
251:359,15['  ]| she said, while the Countess's bright eyes glittered at
251:359,16['  ]| her.
251:359,17[J  ]| "I am sure then he has been odious!"  
251:359,17['  ]| The Countess
251:359,18['  ]| cried.  
251:359,18[J  ]| "Did he say he was glad poor Mr%*Touchett is
251:359,19[J  ]| dying?"
251:359,20[A  ]| "He said it is impossible I should go to$4$ England."
251:359,21['  ]| The Countess's mind, when her interest were concerned,
251:359,22['  ]| was agile; she already foresaw the extinction
251:359,23['  ]| of any further brightness in$4$ her visit to$4$ Rome.  
251:359,23@j   | Ralph*Touchett
251:359,24@j   | would die, Isabel would go into mourning,
251:359,25@j   | and then there would be no$2$ more dinner-parties.  
251:359,25['  ]| Such
251:359,26['  ]| a prospect produced for$4$ a moment in$4$ her countenance
251:359,27['  ]| an expressive grimace; but this rapid, picturesque
251:359,28['  ]| play of feature was her only tribute to$4$ disappointment.
251:359,29@j   | After all, 
251:359,19['  ]| she reflected, 
251:359,19@j   | the game was almost played
251:359,30@j   | out; she had already overstayed her invitation.   
251:359,30['  ]| And
251:359,31['  ]| then she cared enough for$4$ Isabel's trouble to$9$ forget
251:359,32['  ]| her own, and she saw that$3$ Isabel's trouble was deep.
251:360,01['  ]| It seemed deeper than the mere death of a cousin,
251:360,02['  ]| and the Countess had no$2$ hesitation in$4$ connecting her
251:360,03['  ]| exasperating brother with the expression of her sister-in-law's
251:360,04['  ]| eyes.  Her heart beat with an almost joyous
251:360,05['  ]| expectation, for$3$ if she had wished to$9$ see Osmond
251:360,06['  ]| overtopped the conditions looked favourable now.  
251:360,06@j   | Of
251:360,07@j   | course if Isabel should go to$4$ England she herself would
251:360,08@j   | immediately leave Palazzo*Roccanera; nothing would
251:360,09@j   | induce her to$9$ remain there with Osmond.  
251:360,09['  ]| Nevertheless
251:360,10['  ]| she felt an immense desire to$9$ hear that$3$ Isabel
251:360,11['  ]| would go to$4$ England.  
251:360,11[J  ]| "Nothing is impossible for$4$ you,
251:360,12[J  ]| my dear," 
251:360,12['  ]| she said caressingly.  
251:360,12[J  ]| "Why else are you
251:360,13[J  ]| rich and clever and good?"
251:360,14[A  ]| "Why indeed?  I feel stupidly weak."
251:360,15[J  ]| "Why does Osmond say it is impossible?"  
251:360,15['  ]| the
251:360,16['  ]| Countess asked in$4$ a tone which$6#1$ sufficiently declared
251:360,17['  ]| that$3$ she could not imagine.
251:360,18['  ]| From the moment she thus began to$9$ question her,
251:360,19['  ]| however, Isabel drew back; she disengaged her hand,
251:360,20['  ]| which$6#1$ the Countess had affectionately taken.  But she
251:360,21['  ]| answered this enquiry with frank bitterness.  
251:360,21[A  ]| "Because
251:360,22[A  ]| we are so$5#1$ happy together that$3$ we can not separate even
251:360,23[A  ]| for$4$ a fortnight."
251:360,24[J  ]| "Ah," 
251:360,24['  ]| cried the Countess while Isabel turned
251:360,25['  ]| away, 
251:360,25[J  ]| "when I want to$9$ make a journey my husband
251:360,26[J  ]| simply tells me I can have no$2$ money!"
251:360,27['  ]| Isabel went to$4$ her room, where she walked up$5$ and
251:360,28['  ]| down for$4$ an hour.  It may appear to$4$ some readers that$3$
251:360,29['  ]| she gave herself much trouble, and it is certain that$3$
251:360,30['  ]| for$4$ a woman of a high spirit she had allowed herself
251:360,31['  ]| easily to$9$ be arrested.  It seemed to$4$ her that$3$ only now
251:360,32['  ]| she fully measured the great undertaking of matrimony.
251:361,01@a   | Marriage meant that$3$ in$4$ such a case as this,
251:361,02@a   | when one had to$9$ choose, one chose as a matter of course
251:361,03@a   | for$4$ one's husband.  
251:361,03[A  ]| "I am afraid ~~ yes, I am afraid,"
251:361,04['  ]| she said to$4$ herself more than once, stopping short in$4$
251:361,05['  ]| her walk.  But what she was afraid of was not her
251:361,06['  ]| husband ~~ his displeasure, his hatred, his revenge; it
251:361,07['  ]| was not even her own later judgement of her conduct ~~
251:361,08['  ]| a consideration which$6#1$ had often held her in$4$ check; it
251:361,09['  ]| was simply the violence there would be in$4$ going when
251:361,10['  ]| Osmond wished her to$9$ remain.  A gulf of difference
251:361,11['  ]| had opened between them, but nevertheless it was his
251:361,12['  ]| desire that$3$ she should stay, it was a horror to$4$ him that$4$
251:361,13['  ]| she should go.  She knew the nervous fineness with
251:361,14['  ]| which$6#1$ he could feel an objection.  What he thought of
251:361,15['  ]| her she knew, what he was capable of saying to$4$ her
251:361,16['  ]| she had felt; 
251:361,16@a   | yet they were married, for$4$ all that$6#2$, and
251:361,17@a   | marriage meant that$3$ a woman should cleave to$4$ the
251:361,18@a   | man with whom, uttering tremendous vows, she had
251:361,19@a   | stood at the altar.  
251:361,19['  ]| She sank down on$4$ her sofa at last
251:361,20['  ]| and buried her head in$4$ a pile of cushions.
251:361,21['  ]| When she raised her head again the Countess*Gemini
251:361,22['  ]| hovered before her.  She had come in$5$ all
251:361,23['  ]| unperceived; she had a strange smile on$4$ her thin lips
251:361,24['  ]| and her whole face had grown in$4$ an hour a shining
251:361,25['  ]| intimation.  She lived assuredly, it might be said, at
251:361,26['  ]| the window of her spirit, but now she was leaning far
251:361,27['  ]| out.  
251:361,27[J  ]| "I knocked," 
251:361,27['  ]| she began, 
251:361,27[J  ]| "but you did not answer
251:361,28[J  ]| me.  So$3$ I ventured in$5$.  I have been looking at you
251:361,29[J  ]| for$4$ the last five minutes.  You are very unhappy."
251:361,30[A  ]| "Yes; but I do not think you can comfort me."
251:361,31[J  ]| "Will$1$ you give me leave to$9$ try?"  
251:361,31['  ]| And the Countess
251:361,32['  ]| sat down on$4$ the sofa beside her.  She continued to$9$
251:362,01['  ]| smile, and there was something communicative and
251:362,02['  ]| exultant in$4$ her expression.  She appeared to$9$ have a
251:362,03['  ]| deal to$9$ say, and it occurred to$4$ Isabel for$4$ the first time
251:362,04['  ]| that$3$ 
251:362,04@a   | her sister-in-law might say something really
251:362,05@a   | human.  She made play with her glittering eyes, in$4$
251:362,06@a   | which$6#1$ there was an unpleasant fascination.  
251:362,06[J  ]| "After
251:362,07[J  ]| all," 
251:362,07['  ]| she soon resumed, 
251:362,07[J  ]| "I must tell you, to$9$ begin
251:362,08[J  ]| with, that$3$ I do not understand your state of mind.
251:362,09[J  ]| You seem to$9$ have so$5#1$ many scruples, so$5#1$ many reasons,
251:362,10[J  ]| so$5#1$ many ties.  When I discovered, ten years ago, that$3$
251:362,11[J  ]| my husband's dearest wish was to$9$ make me miserable ~~
251:362,12[J  ]| of late he has simply let me alone ~~ ah, it was
251:362,13[J  ]| a wonderful simplification!  My poor Isabel, you are
251:362,14[J  ]| not simple enough."
251:362,15[A  ]| "No$7$, I am not simple enough," 
251:362,15['  ]| said Isabel.
251:362,16[J  ]| "There is something I want you to$9$ know," 
251:362,16['  ]| the
251:362,17['  ]| Countess declared ~~ 
251:362,17[J  ]| "because I think you ought to$9$
251:362,18[J  ]| know it.  Perhaps you do; perhaps you have guessed
251:362,19[J  ]| it.  But if you have, all I can say is that$3$ I understand
251:362,20[J  ]| still less why you should not do as you like$1$."
251:362,21[A  ]| "What do you wish me to$9$ know?"  
251:362,21['  ]| Isabel felt a
251:362,22['  ]| foreboding that$6#1$ made her heart beat faster.  The
251:362,23['  ]| Countess was about to$9$ justify herself, and this alone
251:362,24['  ]| was portentous.
251:362,25['  ]| But she was nevertheless disposed to$9$ play a little with
251:362,26['  ]| her subject.  
251:362,26[J  ]| "In$4$ your place I should have guessed
251:362,27[J  ]| it ages ago.  Have you never really suspected?"
251:362,28[A  ]| "I have guessed nothing.  What should I have suspected?
251:362,29[A  ]| I do not know what you mean."
251:362,30[J  ]| "That$6#2$ is because you have such a beastly pure mind.
251:362,31[J  ]| I never saw a woman with such a pure mind!"  
251:362,31['  ]| cried
251:362,32['  ]| the Countess.
251:363,01['  ]| Isabel slowly got up$5$.  
251:363,01[A  ]| "You are going to$9$ tell me
251:363,02[A  ]| something horrible."
251:363,03[J  ]| "You can call it by$4$ whatever name you will$1$!"
251:363,04['  ]| And the Countess rose also, while her gathered perversity
251:363,05['  ]| grew vivid and dreadful.  She stood a moment
251:363,06['  ]| in$4$ a sort of glare of intention and, as seemed to$4$ Isabel
251:363,07['  ]| even then, of ugliness; after which$6#1$ she said:
251:363,07[J  ]| "My
251:363,08[J  ]| first sister-in-law had no$2$ children."
251:363,09['  ]| Isabel stared back at her; the announcement was
251:363,10['  ]| an anticlimax.  
251:363,10[A  ]| "Your first sister-in-law?"
251:363,11[J  ]| "I suppose you know at least, if one may mention
251:363,12[J  ]| it, that$3$ Osmond has been married before!  I have never
251:363,13[J  ]| spoken to$4$ you of his wife; I thought it might not be
251:363,14[J  ]| decent or respectful.  But, others, less particular, must
251:363,15[J  ]| have done so$5#2$.  The poor little woman lived hardly
251:363,16[J  ]| three years and died childless.  It was not till after
251:363,17[J  ]| her death that$3$ Pansy arrived."
251:363,18['  ]| Isabel's brow had contracted to$4$ a frown; her lips
251:363,19['  ]| were parted in$4$ pale, vague wonder.  She was trying
251:363,20['  ]| to$9$ follow; 
251:363,20@a   | there seemed so$5#1$ much more to$9$ follow than
251:363,21@a   | she could see.  
251:363,21[A  ]| "Pansy is not my husband's child
251:363,22[A  ]| then?"
251:363,23[J  ]| "Your husbands's ~~ in$4$ perfection!  But no*one
251:363,24[J  ]| else's husband's.  Some*one else's wife's.  Ah, my good
251:363,25[J  ]| Isabel," 
251:363,25['  ]| cried the Countess, 
251:363,25[J  ]| "with you one must dot
251:363,26[J  ]| one's i's!"
251:363,27[A  ]| "I do not understand.  Whose wife's?"  
251:363,27['  ]| Isabel 
251:363,28['  ]| asked.
251:363,29[J  ]| "The wife of a horrid little Swiss who$6#1$ died ~~ how
251:363,30[J  ]| long? ~~ a dozen, more than fifteen, years ago.  He
251:363,31[J  ]| never recognised Miss*Pansy, nor, knowing what he
251:363,32[J  ]| was about, would have anything to$9$ say to$4$ her; and
251:364,01[J  ]| there was no$2$ reason why he should.  Osmond did, and
251:364,02[J  ]| that$6#2$ was better; though he had to$9$ fit on$5$ afterwards
251:364,03[J  ]| the whole rigmarole of his own wife's having died in$4$
251:364,04[J  ]| childbirth, and of his having, in$4$ grief and horror, banished
251:364,05[J  ]| the little girl from his sight for$4$ as long as possible
251:364,06[J  ]| before taking her home from nurse.  His wife had
251:364,07[J  ]| really died, you know, of quite another matter and in$4$
251:364,08[J  ]| quite another place: in$4$ the Piedmontese mountains,
251:364,09[J  ]| where they had gone, one August, because her health
251:364,10[J  ]| appeared to$9$ require the air, but where she was suddenly 
251:364,11[J  ]| taken worse ~~ fatally ill.  The story passed,
251:364,12[J  ]| sufficiently; it was covered by$4$ the appearances so$5#1$ long
251:364,13[J  ]| as nobody heeded, as nobody cared to$9$ look into it.  But
251:364,14[J  ]| of course \I\ knew ~~ without researches," 
251:364,14['  ]| the Countess
251:364,15['  ]| lucidly proceeded; 
251:364,15[J  ]| "as also, you will$1$ understand, without
251:364,16[J  ]| a word said between us ~~ I mean between Osmond
251:364,17[J  ]| and me.  Do not you see him looking at me, in$4$
251:364,18[J  ]| silence, that$6#2$ way, to$9$ settle it? ~~ that$6#2$ is to$9$ settle \me\ if
251:364,19[J  ]| I should say anything.  I said nothing, right or left ~~
251:364,20[J  ]| never a word to$4$ a creature, if you can believe that$6#2$ of
251:364,21[J  ]| me: on$4$ my honour, my dear, I speak of the thing
251:364,22[J  ]| to$4$ you now, after all this time, as I have never, never
251:364,23[J  ]| spoken.  It was to$9$ be enough for$4$ me, from the first,
251:364,24[J  ]| that$3$ the child was my niece ~~ from the moment she
251:364,25[J  ]| was my brother's daughter.  As for$4$ her veritable mother
251:364,26[J  ]| ~~ !"  
251:364,26['  ]| But with this Pansy's wonderful aunt
251:364,27['  ]| dropped ~~ as, involuntarily, from the impression of
251:364,28['  ]| her sister-in-law's face, out of which$6#1$ more eyes might
251:364,29['  ]| have seemed to$9$ look at her than she had ever had to$9$
251:364,30['  ]| meet.
251:364,31['  ]| She had spoken no$2$ name, yet Isabel could but
251:364,32['  ]| check, on$4$ her own lips, an echo of the unspoken.  She
251:365,01['  ]| sank to$4$ her seat again, hanging her head.  
251:365,01[A  ]| "Why
251:365,02[A  ]| have you told me this?"  
251:365,02['  ]| she asked in$4$ a voice the
251:365,03['  ]| Countess hardly recognised.
251:365,04[J  ]| "Because I have been so$5#1$ bored with your not knowing.
251:365,05[J  ]| I have been bored, frankly, my dear, with not having
251:365,06[J  ]| told you; as if, stupidly, all this time I could not
251:365,07[J  ]| have managed!  \9C^a me de=passe\, if you do not mind
251:365,08[J  ]| my saying so$5#2$, the things, all round you, that$3$ you have
251:365,09[J  ]| appeared to$9$ succeed in$4$ not knowing.  It is a sort of
251:365,10[J  ]| assistance ~~ aid to$4$ innocent ignorance ~~ that$3$ I have
251:365,11[J  ]| always been a bad hand at rendering; and in$4$ this
251:365,12[J  ]| connexion, that$6#2$ of keeping quiet for$4$ my brother, my
251:365,13[J  ]| virtue has at any rate finally found itself exhausted.
251:365,14[J  ]| It is not a black lie, moreover, you know," 
251:365,14['  ]| the Countess
251:365,15['  ]| inimitably added.  
251:365,15[J  ]| "The facts are exactly what
251:365,16[J  ]| I tell you."
251:365,17[A  ]| "I had no$2$ idea," 
251:365,17['  ]| said Isabel presently; and looked
251:365,18['  ]| up$5$ at her in$4$ a manner that$6#1$ doubtless matched the
251:365,19['  ]| apparent witlessness of this confession.
251:365,20[J  ]| "So$5#2$ I believed ~~ though it was hard to$9$ believe.
251:365,21[J  ]| Had it never occurred to$4$ you that$3$ he was for$4$ six or
251:365,22[J  ]| seven years her lover?"
251:365,23[A  ]| "I do not know.  Things \have\ occurred to$4$ me, and
251:365,24[A  ]| perhaps that$6#2$ was what they all meant."
251:365,25[J  ]| "She has been wonderfully clever, she has been
251:365,26[J  ]| magnificent, about Pansy!"  
251:365,26['  ]| the Countess, before all
251:365,27['  ]| this view of it, cried.
251:365,28[A  ]| "Oh, no$2$ idea, for$4$ me," 
251:365,28['  ]| Isabel went on$5$, 
251:365,28[A  ]| "ever
251:365,29[A  ]| \definitely\ took that$6#2$ form."  
251:365,29['  ]| She appeared to$9$ be making 
251:365,30['  ]| out to$4$ herself what had been and what had not.  
251:365,30[A  ]| "And
251:365,31[A  ]| as it is ~~ I do not understand."
251:365,32['  ]| She spoke as one troubled and puzzled, yet the poor
251:366,01['  ]| Countess seemed to$9$ have seen her revelation fall below
251:366,02['  ]| its possibilities of effect.  She had expected to$9$ kindle
251:366,03['  ]| some responsive blaze, but had barely extracted
251:366,04['  ]| a spark.  Isabel showed as scarce more impressed than
251:366,05['  ]| she might have been, as a young woman of approved
251:366,06['  ]| imagination, with some fine sinister passage of public
251:366,07['  ]| history.  
251:366,07[J  ]| "Do not you recognise how the child could
251:366,08[J  ]| never pass for$4$ \her\ husband's? ~~ that$6#2$ is with M%*Merle
251:366,09[J  ]| himself," 
251:366,09['  ]| her companion resumed.  
251:366,09[J  ]| "They had
251:366,10[J  ]| been separated too long for$4$ that$6#2$, and he had gone to$4$
251:366,11[J  ]| some far country ~~ I think to$4$ South America.  If she
251:366,12[J  ]| had ever had children ~~ which$6#1$ I am not sure of ~~ she
251:366,13[J  ]| had lost them.  The conditions happened to$9$ make it
251:366,14[J  ]| workable, under stress (I mean at so$5#1$ awkward a
251:366,15[J  ]| pinch), that$3$ Osmond should acknowledge the little
251:366,16[J  ]| girl.  His wife was dead ~~ very true; but she had not
251:366,17[J  ]| been dead too long to$9$ put a certain accommodation
251:366,18[J  ]| of dates out of the question ~~ from the moment, I
251:366,19[J  ]| mean, that$6#2$ suspicion was not started; which$6#1$ was what
251:366,20[J  ]| they had to$9$ take care of.  What was more natural than
251:366,21[J  ]| that$3$ poor Mrs%*Osmond, at a distance and for$4$ a world
251:366,22[J  ]| not troubling about trifles, should have left behind her,
251:366,23[J  ]| \8poverina\, the pledge of her brief happiness that$6#1$ had
251:366,24[J  ]| cost her her life?  With the aid of change of residence
251:366,25[J  ]| ~~ Osmond had been living with her at Naples
251:366,26[J  ]| at the time of their stay in$4$ the Alps, and he in$4$ due
251:366,27[J  ]| course left it for*ever ~~ the whole history was successfully
251:366,28[J  ]| set going.  My poor sister-in-law, in$4$ her grave,
251:366,29[J  ]| could not help herself, and the real mother, to$9$ save \her\
251:366,30[J  ]| skin, renounced all visible property in$4$ the child."
251:366,31[A  ]| "Ah, poor, poor woman!"  
251:366,31['  ]| cried Isabel, who$6#1$ herewith
251:366,32['  ]| burst into tears.  It was a long time since she had
251:367,01['  ]| shed any; she had suffered a high reaction from weeping.
251:367,02['  ]| But now they flowed with an abundance in$4$ which$6#1$
251:367,03['  ]| the Countess*Gemini found only another discomfiture.
251:367,04['  ]|
251:367,05[J  ]| "It is very kind of you to$9$ pity her!"  
251:367,05['  ]| she discordantly
251:367,06['  ]| laughed.  
251:367,06[J  ]| "Yes indeed, you have a way of your own ~!
251:367,07[J  ]|
251:367,08[A  ]| "He must have been false to$4$ his wife ~~ and so$5#1$ very
251:367,09[A  ]| soon!"  
251:367,09['  ]| said Isabel with a sudden check.
251:367,10[J  ]| "That$6#2$ is all that$6#1$ is wanting ~~ that$3$ you should take
251:367,11[J  ]| up$5$ \her\ cause!"  
251:367,11['  ]| the Countess went on$5$.  
251:367,11[J  ]| "I quite agree
251:367,12[J  ]| with you, however, that$3$ it was much too soon."
251:367,13[A  ]| "But to$4$ me, to$4$ me ~~ ?"  
251:367,13['  ]| And Isabel hesitated as if
251:367,14['  ]| she had not heard; as if her question ~~ though it was
251:367,15['  ]| sufficiently there in$4$ her eyes ~~ were all for$4$ herself.
251:367,16[J  ]| "To$4$ you he has been faithful?  Well, it depends,
251:367,17[J  ]| my dear, on$4$ what you call faithful.  When he married
251:367,18[J  ]| you he was no$2$ longer the lover of another woman ~~
251:367,19[J  ]| \such\ a lover as he had been, \8cara*mia\, between their
251:367,20[J  ]| risks and their precautions, while the thing lasted!
251:367,21[J  ]| That$6#2$ state of affairs had passed away; the lady had
251:367,22[J  ]| repented, or at all events, for$4$ reasons of her own,
251:367,23[J  ]| drawn back: she had always had, too, a worship of
251:367,24[J  ]| appearances so$5#1$ intense that$3$ even Osmond himself had
251:367,25[J  ]| got bored with it.  You may therefore imagine what it 
251:367,26[J  ]| was ~~ when he could not patch it on$4$ conveniently to$4$
251:367,27[J  ]| \any\ of those he goes in$5$ for$4$!  But the whole past was
251:367,28[J  ]| between them."
251:367,29[A  ]| "Yes," 
251:367,29['  ]| Isabel mechanically echoed, 
251:367,29[A  ]| "the whole 
251:367,30[A  ]| past is between them."
251:367,31[J  ]| "Ah, this later past is nothing.  But for$4$ six or seven
251:367,32[J  ]| years, as I say, they had kept it up$5$."
251:368,01['  ]| She was silent a little.  
251:368,01[A  ]| "Why then did she want
251:368,02[A  ]| him to$9$ marry me?"
251:368,03[J  ]| "Ah my dear, that$6#2$ is her superiority!  Because you
251:368,04[J  ]| had money; and because she believed you would be
251:368,05[J  ]| good to$4$ Pansy."
251:368,06[A  ]| "Poor woman ~~ and Pansy who$6#1$ does not like$1$ her!"
251:368,07['  ]| cried Isabel.
251:368,08[J  ]| "That$6#2$ is the reason she wanted some*one whom
251:368,09[J  ]| Pansy would like$1$.  She knows it; she knows everything."
251:368,10[J  ]|
251:368,11[A  ]| "Will$1$ she know that$3$ you have told me this?"
251:368,12[J  ]| "That$6#2$ will$1$ depend upon$4$ whether you tell her.  She is
251:368,13[J  ]| prepared for$4$ it, and do you know what she counts
251:368,14[J  ]| upon$4$ for$4$ her defence?  On$4$ your believing that$3$ I lie.
251:368,15[J  ]| Perhaps you do; do not make yourself uncomfortable
251:368,16[J  ]| to$9$ hide it.  Only, as it happens this time, I do not.  I have
251:368,17[J  ]| told plenty of little idiotic fibs, but they have never
251:368,18[J  ]| hurt any*one but myself."
251:368,19['  ]| Isabel sat staring at her companion's story as at
251:368,20['  ]| a bale of fantastic wares some strolling gypsy might
251:368,21['  ]| have unpacked on$4$ the carpet at her feet.  
251:368,21[A  ]| "Why did
251:368,22[A  ]| Osmond never marry her?"  
251:368,22['  ]| she finally asked.
251:368,23[J  ]| "Because she had no$2$ money."  
251:368,23['  ]| The Countess had
251:368,24['  ]| an answer for$4$ everything, and if she lied she lied well.
251:368,25[J  ]| "No*one knows, no*one has ever known, what she
251:368,26[J  ]| lives on$5$, or how she has got all those beautiful things.
251:368,27[J  ]| I do not believe Osmond himself knows.  Besides, she
251:368,28[J  ]| would not have married him."
251:368,29[A  ]| "How can she have loved him then?"
251:368,30[J  ]| "She does not love him in$4$ that$6#2$ way.  She did at first,
251:368,31[J  ]| and then, I suppose, she would have married him;
251:368,32[J  ]| but at that$6#2$ time her husband was living.  By$4$ the time
251:369,01[J  ]| M%*Merle had rejoined ~~ I will$1$ not say his ancestors,
251:369,02[J  ]| because he never had any ~~ her relations with Osmond
251:369,03[J  ]| had changed, and she had grown more ambitious.
251:369,04[J  ]| Besides, she has never had, about him," 
251:369,04['  ]| the
251:369,05['  ]| Countess went on$5$, leaving Isabel to$9$ wince for$4$ it so$5#1$
251:369,06['  ]| tragically afterwards ~~ 
251:369,06[J  ]| "she \had\ never had, what you
251:369,07[J  ]| might call any illusions of \intelligence\.  She hoped she
251:369,08[J  ]| might marry a great man; that$6#2$ has always been her
251:369,09[J  ]| idea.  She has waited and watched and plotted and
251:369,10[J  ]| prayed; but she has never succeeded.  I do not call
251:369,11[J  ]| Madame*Merle a success, you know.  I do not know
251:369,12[J  ]| what she may accomplish yet, but at present she has
251:369,13[J  ]| very little to$9$ show.  The only tangible result she has
251:369,14[J  ]| ever achieved ~~ except, of course, getting to$9$ know
251:369,15[J  ]| every*one and staying with them free of expense ~~ has
251:369,16[J  ]| been her bringing you and Osmond together.  Oh, she
251:369,17[J  ]| did that$6#2$, my dear; you need not look as if you doubted
251:369,18[J  ]| it.  I have watched them for$4$ years; I know everything
251:369,19[J  ]| ~~ everything.  I am thought a great scatterbrain, but
251:369,20[J  ]| I have had enough application of mind to$9$ follow up$5$
251:369,21[J  ]| those two.  She hates me, and her way of showing it is
251:369,22[J  ]| to$9$ pretend to$9$ be for*ever defending me.  When people
251:369,23[J  ]| say I have had fifteen lovers she looks horrified and declares
251:369,24[J  ]| that$3$ quite half of them were never proved.  She
251:369,25[J  ]| has been afraid of me for$4$ years, and she has taken
251:369,26[J  ]| great comfort in$4$ the vile, false things people have said
251:369,27[J  ]| about me.  She has been afraid I would expose her, and she
251:369,28[J  ]| threatened me one day when Osmond began to$9$ pay
251:369,29[J  ]| his court to$4$ you.  It was at his house in$4$ Florence;
251:369,30[J  ]| do you remember that$6#2$ afternoon when she brought
251:369,31[J  ]| you there and we had tea in$4$ the garden?  She let me
251:369,32[J  ]| know then that$3$ if I should tell tales two could play at
251:370,01[J  ]| that$6#2$ game.  She pretends there is a good deal more to$9$
251:370,02[J  ]| tell about me than about her.  It would be an interesting
251:370,03[J  ]| comparison!  I do not care a fig what she may say,
251:370,04[J  ]| simply because I know \you\ do not care a fig.  You can not
251:370,05[J  ]| trouble your head about me less than you do already.
251:370,06[J  ]| So$3$ she may take her revenge as she chooses; I do not
251:370,07[J  ]| think she will$1$ frighten you very much.  Her great idea
251:370,08[J  ]| has been to$9$ be tremendously irreproachable ~~ a kind
251:370,09[J  ]| of full-blown lily ~~ the incarnation of propriety.  She
251:370,10[J  ]| has always worshipped that$6#2$ god.  There should be no$2$
251:370,11[J  ]| scandal about Ca*esar's wife, you know; and, as I say,
251:370,12[J  ]| she has always hoped to$9$ marry Ca*esar.  That$6#2$ was one
251:370,13[J  ]| reason she would not marry Osmond; the fear that$3$
251:370,14[J  ]| on$4$ seeing her with Pansy people would put things together
251:370,15[J  ]| ~~ would even see a resemblance.  She has had
251:370,16[J  ]| a terror lest the mother would betray herself.  She has
251:370,17[J  ]| been awfully careful; the mother has never done so$5#2$."
251:370,18[A  ]| "Yes, yes, the mother has done so$5#2$," 
251:370,18['  ]| said Isabel,
251:370,19['  ]| who$6#1$ had listened to$4$ all this with a face more and more
251:370,20['  ]| wan.  
251:370,20[A  ]| "She betrayed herself to$4$ me the other day,
251:370,21[A  ]| though I did not recognise her.  There appeared to$9$
251:370,22[A  ]| have been a chance of Pansy's making a great marriage,
251:370,23[A  ]| and in$4$ her disappointment at its not coming off
251:370,24[A  ]| she almost dropped the mask."
251:370,25[J  ]| "Ah, that$6#2$ is where she would dish herself!" 
251:370,25['  ]| cried the
251:370,26['  ]| Countess.  
251:370,26[J  ]| "She has failed so$5#1$ dreadfully that$3$ she is
251:370,27[J  ]| determined her daughter shall make it up$5$."
251:370,28['  ]| Isabel started at the words "her daughter," which$6#1$
251:370,29['  ]| her guest threw off so$5#1$ familiarly.  
251:370,29[A  ]| "It seems very
251:370,30[A  ]| wonderful," 
251:370,30['  ]| she murmured; and in$4$ this bewildering
251:370,31['  ]| impression she had almost lost her sense of being
251:370,32['  ]| personally touched by$4$ the story.
251:371,01[J  ]| "Now do not go and turn against the poor innocent
251:371,02[J  ]| child!"  
251:371,02['  ]| The Countess went on$5$.  
251:371,02[J  ]| "She is very nice, in$4$
251:371,03[J  ]| spite of her deplorable origin.  I myself have liked
251:371,04[J  ]| Pansy; not, naturally, because she was \hers\, but because
251:371,05[J  ]| she had become yours."
251:371,06[A  ]| "Yes, she has become mine.  And how the poor
251:371,07[A  ]| woman must have suffered at seeing me ~~ !"  
251:371,07['  ]| Isabel
251:371,08['  ]| exclaimed while she flushed at the thought.
251:371,09[J  ]| "I do not believe she has suffered; on$4$ the contrary,
251:371,10[J  ]| she has enjoyed.  Osmond's marriage has given his
251:371,11[J  ]| daughter a great little lift.  Before that$6#2$ she lived in$4$
251:371,12[J  ]| a hole.  And do you know what the mother thought?
251:371,13[J  ]| That$3$ you might take such a fancy to$4$ the child that$3$
251:371,14[J  ]| you would do something for$4$ her.  Osmond of course could
251:371,15[J  ]| never give her a portion.  Osmond was really extremely
251:371,16[J  ]| poor; but of course you know all about that$6#2$.
251:371,17[J  ]| Ah, my dear," 
251:371,17['  ]| cried the Countess, 
251:371,17[J  ]| "why did you
251:371,18[J  ]| ever inherit money?"  
251:371,18['  ]| She stopped a moment as if
251:371,19['  ]| she saw something singular in$4$ Isabel's face.  
251:371,19[J  ]| "Do not
251:371,20[J  ]| tell me now that$3$ you will$1$ give her a \9dot\.  You are capable
251:371,21[J  ]| of that$6#2$, but I would refuse to$9$ believe it.  Do not
251:371,22[J  ]| try to$9$ be too good.  Be a little easy and natural and
251:371,23[J  ]| nasty; feel a little wicked, for$4$ the comfort of it, once
251:371,24[J  ]| in$4$ your life!"
251:371,25[A  ]| "It is very strange.  I suppose I ought to$9$ know, but
251:371,26[A  ]| I am sorry," 
251:371,26['  ]| Isabel said.  
251:371,26[A  ]| "I am much obliged to$4$ you."
251:371,27[J  ]| "Yes, you seem to$9$ be!" 
251:371,27['  ]| cried the Countess with a
251:371,28['  ]| mocking laugh.  
251:371,28[J  ]| "Perhaps you are ~~ perhaps you are
251:371,29[J  ]| not.  You do not take it as I should have thought."
251:371,30[A  ]| "How should I take it?" 
251:371,30['  ]| Isabel asked.
251:371,31[J  ]| "Well, I should say as a woman who$6#1$ has been made
251:371,32[J  ]| use of."  
251:371,32['  ]| Isabel made no$2$ answer to$4$ this; she only listened,
251:372,01['  ]| and the Countess went on$5$.  
251:372,01[J  ]| "They have always
251:372,02[J  ]| been bound to$4$ each other; they remained so$5#2$ even after
251:372,03[J  ]| she broke off ~~ or \he\ did.  But he has always been
251:372,04[J  ]| more for$4$ her than she has been for$4$ him.  When their
251:372,05[J  ]| little carnival was over they made a bargain that$3$ each
251:372,06[J  ]| should give the other complete liberty, but that$3$ each
251:372,07[J  ]| should also do everything possible to$9$ help the other
251:372,08[J  ]| on$5$.  You may ask me how I know such a thing as that$6#2$.
251:372,09[J  ]| I know it by$4$ the way they have behaved.  Now see how
251:372,10[J  ]| much better women are than men!  She has found a
251:372,11[J  ]| wife for$4$ Osmond, but Osmond has never lifted a little
251:372,12[J  ]| finger for$4$ \her\.  She has worked for$4$ him, plotted for$4$
251:372,13[J  ]| him, suffered for$4$ him; she has even more than once
251:372,14[J  ]| found money for$4$ him; and the end of it is that$3$ he is
251:372,15[J  ]| tired of her.  She is an old habit; there are moments
251:372,16[J  ]| when he needs her, but on$4$ the whole he would not
251:372,17[J  ]| miss her if she were removed.  And, what is more, to-day
251:372,18[J  ]| she knows it.  So$3$ you need not be jealous!" 
251:372,18['  ]| the
251:372,19['  ]| Countess added humorously.
251:372,20['  ]| Isabel rose from her sofa again; she felt bruised
251:372,21['  ]| and scant of breath; her head was humming with new
251:372,22['  ]| knowledge.  
251:372,22[A  ]| "I am much obliged to$4$ you," 
251:372,22['  ]| she repeated.
251:372,23['  ]| And then she added abruptly, in$4$ quite a different tone:
251:372,24[A  ]| "How do you know all this?"
251:372,25['  ]| This enquiry appeared to$9$ ruffle the Countess more
251:372,26['  ]| than Isabel's expression of gratitude pleased her.  She
251:372,27['  ]| gave her companion a bold stare, with which$6#1$,  
251:372,27[J  ]| "Let
251:372,28[J  ]| us assume that$3$ I have invented it!"  
251:372,28['  ]| she cried.  She
251:372,29['  ]| too, however, suddenly changed her tone and, laying
251:372,30['  ]| her hand on$4$ Isabel's arm, said with the penetration of
251:372,31['  ]| her sharp bright smile:
251:372,31[J  ]| "Now will$1$ you give up$5$ your
251:372,32[J  ]| journey?"
251:373,01['  ]| Isabel started a little; she turned away.  But she
251:373,02['  ]| felt weak and in$4$ a moment had to$9$ lay her arm upon$4$
251:373,03['  ]| the mantel-shelf for$4$ support.  She stood a minute so$5#2$,
251:373,04['  ]| and then upon$4$ her arm she dropped her dizzy head,
251:373,05['  ]| with closed eyes and pale lips.
251:373,06[J  ]| "I have done wrong to$9$ speak ~~ I have made you ill!"
251:373,07['  ]| the Countess cried.
251:373,08[A  ]| "Ah, I must see Ralph!" 
251:373,08['  ]| Isabel wailed; not in$4$
251:373,09['  ]| resentment, not in$4$ the quick passion her companion
251:373,10['  ]| had looked for$4$; but in$4$ a tone of far-reaching, infinite
251:373,11['  ]| sadness. 
252:374,01['  ]| There was a train for$4$ Turin and Paris that$6#2$ evening;
252:374,02['  ]| and after the Countess had left her Isabel had a rapid
252:374,03['  ]| and decisive conference with her maid, who$6#1$ was discreet,
252:374,04['  ]| devoted and active.  After this she thought (except
252:374,05['  ]| of her journey) only of one thing.  
252:374,05@a   | She must go
252:374,06@a   | and see Pansy; from her she could not turn away.  She
252:374,07@a   | had not seen her yet, as Osmond had given her to$9$ understand
252:374,08@a   | that$3$ it was too soon to$9$ begin.  
252:374,08['  ]| She drove at
252:374,09['  ]| five o'clock to$4$ a high door in$4$ a narrow street in$4$ the
252:374,10['  ]| quarter of the Piazza*Navona, and was admitted by$4$
252:374,11['  ]| the portress of the convent, a genial and obsequious
252:374,12['  ]| person.  Isabel had been at this institution before; she
252:374,13['  ]| had come with Pansy to$9$ see the sisters.  She knew they
252:374,14['  ]| were good women, and she saw that$3$ the large rooms
252:374,15['  ]| were clean and cheerful and that$3$ the well-used garden
252:374,16['  ]| had sun for$4$ winter and shade for$4$ spring.  But she
252:374,17['  ]| disliked the place, which$6#1$ affronted and almost frightened
252:374,18['  ]| her; not for$4$ the world would she have spent a
252:374,19['  ]| night there.  It produced to-day more than before the
252:374,20['  ]| impression of a well-appointed prison; for$3$ it was not
252:374,21['  ]| possible to$9$ pretend Pansy was free to$9$ leave it.  This
252:374,22['  ]| innocent creature had been presented to$4$ her in$4$ a new
252:374,23['  ]| and violent light, but the secondary effect of the revelation
252:374,24['  ]| was to$9$ make her reach out a hand.
252:374,25['  ]| The portress left her to$9$ wait in$4$ the parlour of the
252:374,26['  ]| convent while she went to$9$ make it known that$3$ 
252:374,26@v   | there
252:374,27@v   | was a visitor for$4$ the dear young lady.  
252:374,27['  ]| The parlour
252:375,01['  ]| was a vast, cold apartment, with new-looking furniture;
252:375,02['  ]| a large clean stove of white porcelain, unlighted,
252:375,03['  ]| a collection of wax flowers under glass, and a series
252:375,04['  ]| of engravings from religious pictures on$4$ the walls.  On$4$
252:375,05['  ]| the other occasion Isabel had thought it less like$4$ Rome
252:375,06['  ]| than like$4$ Philadelphia, but to-day she made no$2$ reflections;
252:375,07['  ]| the apartment only seemed to$4$ her very empty
252:375,08['  ]| and very soundless.  The portress returned at the end
252:375,09['  ]| of some five minutes, ushering in$5$ another person.  Isabel
252:375,10['  ]| got up$5$, expecting to$9$ see one of the ladies of the
252:375,11['  ]| sisterhood, but to$4$ her extreme surprise found herself
252:375,12['  ]| confronted with Madame*Merle.  The effect was
252:375,13['  ]| strange, for$3$ Madame*Merle was already so$5#1$ present to$4$
252:375,14['  ]| her vision that$3$ her appearance in$4$ the flesh was like$4$
252:375,15['  ]| suddenly, and rather awfully, seeing a painted picture
252:375,16['  ]| move.  Isabel had been thinking all day of her falsity,
252:375,17['  ]| her audacity, her ability, her probable suffering; and
252:375,18['  ]| these dark things seemed to$9$ flash with a sudden light
252:375,19['  ]| as she entered the room.  Her being there at all had the
252:375,20['  ]| character of ugly evidence, of handwritings, of profaned
252:375,21['  ]| relics, of grim things produced in$4$ court.  It made
252:375,22['  ]| Isabel feel faint; if it had been necessary to$9$ speak on$4$
252:375,23['  ]| the spot she would have been quite unable.  But no$2$
252:375,24['  ]| such necessity was distinct to$4$ her; it seemed to$4$ her
252:375,25['  ]| indeed that$3$ 
252:375,25@a   | she had absolutely nothing to$9$ say to$4$ Madame*Merle.
252:375,26@a   | In$4$ one's relations with this lady, however,
252:375,27@a   | there were never any absolute necessities; she had
252:375,28@a   | a manner which$6#1$ carried off not only her own deficiencies 
252:375,29@a   | but those of other people.  But she was different
252:375,30@a   | from usual; 
252:375,30['  ]| she came in$4$ slowly, behind the portress,
252:375,31['  ]| and Isabel instantly perceived that$3$ 
252:375,31@a   | she was not likely
252:375,32@a   | to$9$ depend upon$4$ her habitual resources.  For$4$ her too
252:376,01@a   | the occasion was exceptional, and she had undertaken
252:376,02@a   | to$9$ treat it by$4$ the light of the moment.  This gave her 
252:376,03@a   | a peculiar gravity; she pretended not even to$9$ smile,
252:376,04['  ]| and though Isabel saw 
252:376,04@a   | that$3$ she was more than ever
252:376,05@a   | playing a part it seemed to$4$ her that$3$ on$4$ the whole the
252:376,06@a   | wonderful woman had never been so$5#1$ natural.  
252:376,06['  ]| She
252:376,07['  ]| looked at her young friend from head to$4$ foot, but not
252:376,08['  ]| harshly nor defiantly; with a cold gentleness rather,
252:376,09['  ]| and an absence of any air of allusion to$4$ their last meeting.
252:376,10@a   | It was as if she had wished to$9$ mark a distinction.
252:376,11@a   | She had been irritated then, she was reconciled now.
252:376,12[H  ]| "You can leave us alone," 
252:376,12['  ]| she said to$4$ the portress;
252:376,13[H  ]| "in$4$ five minutes this lady will$1$ ring for$4$ you."  
252:376,13['  ]| And then
252:376,14['  ]| she turned to$4$ Isabel, who$6#1$, after noting what has just
252:376,15['  ]| been mentioned, had ceased to$9$ notice and had let her
252:376,16['  ]| eyes wander as far as the limits of the room would
252:376,17['  ]| allow.  
252:376,17@a   | She wished never to$9$ look at Madame*Merle
252:376,18@a   | again.  
252:376,18[H  ]| "You are surprised to$9$ find me here, and I am
252:376,19[H  ]| afraid you are not pleased," 
252:376,19['  ]| this lady went on$5$.  
252:376,19[H  ]| "You
252:376,20[H  ]| do not see why I should have come; it is as if I had
252:376,21[H  ]| anticipated you.  I confess I have been rather indiscreet
252:376,22[H  ]| ~~ I ought to$9$ have asked your permission."  
252:376,22['  ]| There was
252:376,23['  ]| none of the oblique movement of irony in$4$ this; it was
252:376,24['  ]| said simply and mildly; but Isabel, far afloat on$4$ a sea
252:376,25['  ]| of wonder and pain, could not have told herself with
252:376,26['  ]| what intention it was uttered.  
252:376,26[H  ]| "But I have not been sitting
252:376,27[H  ]| long," 
252:376,27['  ]| Madame*Merle continued; 
252:376,27[H  ]| "that$6#2$ is I have
252:376,28[H  ]| not been long with Pansy.  I came to$9$ see her because
252:376,29[H  ]| it occurred to$4$ me this afternoon that$3$ she must be
252:376,30[H  ]| rather lonely and perhaps even a little miserable.  It
252:376,31[H  ]| may be good for$4$ a small girl; I know so$5#1$ little about
252:376,32[H  ]| small girls; I can not tell.  At any rate it is a little dismal.
252:377,01[H  ]| Therefore I came ~~ on$4$ the chance.  I knew of course
252:377,02[H  ]| that$3$ you would come, and her father as well; still, I had
252:377,03[H  ]| not been told other visitors were forbidden.  The good
252:377,04[H  ]| woman ~~ what is her name?  Madame*Catherine ~~
252:377,05[H  ]| made no$2$ objection whatever.  I stayed twenty minutes
252:377,06[H  ]| with Pansy; she has a charming little room, not in$4$ the
252:377,07[H  ]| least conventual, with a piano and flowers.  She has
252:377,08[H  ]| arranged it delighfully; she has so$5#1$ much taste.  Of
252:377,09[H  ]| course it is all none of my business, but I feel happier
252:377,10[H  ]| since I have seen her.  She may even have a maid if she
252:377,11[H  ]| likes; but of course she has no$2$ occasion to$9$ dress.  She
252:377,12[H  ]| wears a little black frock; she looks so$5#1$ charming.  I
252:377,13[H  ]| went afterwards to$9$ see Mother*Catherine, who$6#1$ has a
252:377,14[H  ]| very good room too; I assure you I do not find the poor
252:377,15[H  ]| sisters at all monastic.  Mother*Catherine has a most
252:377,16[H  ]| coquettish little toilet-table, with something that$6#1$ looked
252:377,17[H  ]| uncommonly like$4$ a bottle of eau-de-Cologne.  She
252:377,18[H  ]| speaks delighfully of Pansy; says it is a great happiness
252:377,19[H  ]| for$4$ them to$9$ have her.  She is a little saint of heaven
252:377,20[H  ]| and a model to$4$ the oldest of them.  Just as I was leaving
252:377,21[H  ]| Madame*Catherine the portress came to$9$ say to$4$
252:377,22[H  ]| her that$3$ there was a lady for$4$ the signorina.  Of course
252:377,23[H  ]| I knew it must be you , and I asked her to$9$ let me go
252:377,24[H  ]| and receive you in$4$ her place.  She demurred greatly
252:377,25[H  ]| ~~ I must tell you that$3$ ~~ and said it was her duty
252:377,26[H  ]| to$9$ notify the Mother*Superior; it was of such high
252:377,27[H  ]| importance that$3$ you should be treated with respect.
252:377,28[H  ]| I requested her to$9$ let the Mother*Superior alone and
252:377,29[H  ]| asked her how she suposed I would treat you!"
252:377,30['  ]| So$3$ Madame*Merle went on$5$, with much of the brilliancy
252:377,31['  ]| of a woman who$6#1$ had long been a mistress of the
252:377,32['  ]| art of conversation.  But there were phases and gradations
252:378,01['  ]| in$4$ her speech, not one of which$6#1$ was lost upon$4$
252:378,02['  ]| Isabel's ear, though her eyes were absent from her
252:378,03['  ]| companion's face.  She had not proceeded far before
252:378,04['  ]| Isabel noted a sudden break in$4$ her voice, a lapse in$4$ her
252:378,05['  ]| continuity, which$6#1$ was in$4$ itself a complete drama.  This
252:378,06['  ]| subtle modulation marked a momentous discovery ~~
252:378,07['  ]| the perception of an entirely new attitude on$4$ the part
252:378,08['  ]| of her listener.  Madame*Merle had guessed in$4$ the
252:378,09['  ]| space of an instant that$3$ everything was at end between
252:378,10['  ]| them, and in$4$ the space of another instant she
252:378,11['  ]| had guessed the reason why.  The person who$6#1$ stood 
252:378,12['  ]| there was not the same one she had seen hitherto,
252:378,13['  ]| but was a very different person ~~ a person who$6#1$ knew
252:378,14['  ]| her secret.  This discovery was tremendous, and from
252:378,15['  ]| the moment she made it the most accomplished of
252:378,16['  ]| women faltered and lost her courage.  But only for$4$
252:378,17['  ]| that$6#2$ moment.  Then the conscious stream of her perfect
252:378,18['  ]| manner gathered itself again and flowed on$5$ as
252:378,19['  ]| smoothly as might be to$4$ the end.  But it was only
252:378,20['  ]| because she had the end in$4$ view that$3$ she was able to$9$
252:378,21['  ]| proceed.  She had been touched with a point that$6#1$
252:378,22['  ]| made her quiver, and she needed all the alertness of
252:378,23['  ]| her will$0$ to$9$ repress her agitation.  Her only safety was
252:378,24['  ]| in$4$ her not betraying herself.  She resisted this, but
252:378,25['  ]| the startled quality of her voice refused to$9$ improve
252:378,26['  ]| ~~ she could not help it ~~ while she heard herself say
252:378,27['  ]| she hardly knew what.  The tide of her confidence
252:378,28['  ]| ebbed, and she was able only just to$9$ glide into port,
252:378,29['  ]| faintly grazing the bottom.
252:378,30['  ]| Isabel saw it all as distincly as if it had been
252:378,31['  ]| reflected in$4$ a large clear glass.  It might have been
252:378,32['  ]| a great moment for$4$ her, for$3$ it might have been a moment
252:379,01['  ]| of triumph.  
252:379,01@a   | That$3$ Madame*Merle had lost her
252:379,02@a   | pluck and saw before her the phantom of exposure ~~
252:379,03@a   | this in$4$ itself was a revenge, this in$4$ itself was almost
252:379,04@a   | the promise of a brighter day.  
252:379,04['  ]| And for$4$ a moment during
252:379,05['  ]| which$6#1$ she stood apparently looking out of the window,
252:379,06['  ]| with her back half-turned, Isabel enjoyed that$6#2$
252:379,07['  ]| knowledge.  On$4$ the other side of the window lay the
252:379,08['  ]| garden of the convent; but this is not what she saw;
252:379,09['  ]| she saw nothing of the budding plants and the glowing
252:379,10['  ]| afternoon.  She saw, in$4$ the crude light of that$6#2$ revelation
252:379,11['  ]| which$6#1$ had already become a part of experience
252:379,12['  ]| and to$4$ which$6#1$ the very frailty of the vessel in$4$ which$6#1$ it
252:379,13['  ]| had been offered her only gave an intrinsic price, the
252:379,14['  ]| dry staring fact that$3$ she had been an applied handled
252:379,15['  ]| hung-up tool, as senseless and convenient as mere
252:379,16['  ]| shaped wood and iron.  All the bitterness of this knowledge
252:379,17['  ]| surged into her soul again; it was as if she felt
252:379,18['  ]| on$4$ her lips the taste of dishonour.  There was a moment
252:379,19['  ]| during which$6#1$, if she had turned and spoken, she
252:379,20['  ]| would have said something that$6#1$ would hiss like$4$ a lash.
252:379,21['  ]| But she closed her eyes, and then the hideous vision
252:379,22['  ]| dropped.  What remained was the cleverest woman
252:379,23['  ]| in$4$ the world standing there within a few feet of her
252:379,24['  ]| and knowing as little what to$9$ think as the meanest.
252:379,25['  ]| Isabel's only revenge was to$9$ be silent still ~~ to$9$ leave
252:379,26['  ]| Madame*Merle in$4$ this unprecedented situation.  She
252:379,27['  ]| left her there for$4$ a period that$6#1$ must have seemed long
252:379,28['  ]| to$4$ this lady, who$6#1$ at last seated herself with a movement
252:379,29['  ]| which$6#1$ was in$4$ itself a confession of helplessness.
252:379,30['  ]| Then Isabel turned slow eyes, looking down at her.
252:379,31['  ]| Madame*Merle was very pale; her own eyes covered
252:379,32['  ]| Isabel's face.  She might see what she would, but her
252:380,01['  ]| danger was over.  Isabel would never accuse her, never
252:380,02['  ]| reproach her; perhaps because she never would give
252:380,03['  ]| her the opportunity to$9$ defend herself.
252:380,04[A  ]| "I am come to$9$ bid Pansy good-bye," 
252:380,04['  ]| our young
252:380,05['  ]| woman said at last.  
252:380,05[A  ]| "I go to$4$ England to-night."
252:380,06[H  ]| "Go to$4$ England to-night!"  
252:380,06['  ]| Madame*Merle repeated
252:380,07['  ]| sitting there and looking up$5$ at her.
252:380,08[A  ]| "I am going to$4$ Gardencourt.  Ralph*Touchett is
252:380,09[A  ]| dying."
252:380,10[H  ]| "Ah, you will$1$ feel that$6#2$."  
252:380,10['  ]| Madame*Merle recovered
252:380,11['  ]| herself; she had a chance to$9$ express sympathy.  
252:380,11[H  ]| "Do
252:380,12[H  ]| you go alone?"
252:380,13[A  ]| "Yes; without my husband."
252:380,14['  ]| Madame*Merle gave a low vague murmur; a sort
252:380,15['  ]| of recognition of the general sadness of things.  
252:380,15[H  ]| "Mr%*Touchett
252:380,16[H  ]| never liked me, but I am sorry he is dying.
252:380,17[H  ]| Shall you see his mother?"
252:380,18[A  ]| "Yes; she has returned from America."
252:380,19[H  ]| "She used to$9$ be very kind to$4$ me; but she has
252:380,20[H  ]| changed.  Others too have changed," 
252:380,20['  ]| said Madame*Merle
252:380,21['  ]| with a quiet noble pathos.  She paused a moment,
252:380,22['  ]| then added:
252:380,22[H  ]| "And you will$1$ see dear old Gardencourt
252:380,23[H  ]| again!"
252:380,24[A  ]| "I shall not enjoy it much," 
252:380,24['  ]| Isabel answered.
252:380,25[H  ]| "Naturally ~~ in$4$ your grief.  But it is on$4$ the whole,
252:380,26[H  ]| of all the houses I know, and I know many, the one
252:380,27[H  ]| I should have liked best to$9$ live in$4$.  I do not venture to$9$
252:380,28[H  ]| send a message to$4$ the people," 
252:380,28['  ]| Madame*Merle added;
252:380,29[H  ]| "but I should like$1$ to$9$ give my love to$4$ the place."
252:380,30['  ]| Isabel turned away.  
252:380,30[A  ]| "I had better go to$4$ Pansy.
252:380,31[A  ]| I have not much time."
252:380,32['  ]| While she looked about her for$4$ the proper egress,
252:381,01['  ]| the door opened and admitted one of the ladies of the
252:381,02['  ]| house, who$6#1$ advanced with a discreet smile, gently
252:381,03['  ]| rubbing, under her long loose sleeves, a pair of plump
252:381,04['  ]| white hands.  Isabel recognised Madame*Catherine,
252:381,05['  ]| whose acquaintance she had already made, and
252:381,06['  ]| begged that$3$ 
252:381,06@a   | she would immediately let her see Miss*Osmond.
252:381,07['  ]| Madame*Catherine looked doubly discreet,
252:381,08['  ]| but smiled very blandly and said:
252:381,08[V  ]| "It will$1$ be good
252:381,09[V  ]| for$4$ her to$9$ see you.  I will$1$ take you to$4$ her myself."  
252:381,09['  ]| Then
252:381,10['  ]| she directed her pleased guarded vision to$4$ Madame*Merle.
252:381,11['  ]|
252:381,12[H  ]| "Will$1$ you let me remain a little?" 
252:381,12['  ]| this lady asked.
252:381,13[H  ]| "It is so$5#1$ good to$9$ be here."
252:381,14[V  ]| "You may remain always if you like$1$!"  
252:381,14['  ]| And the 
252:381,15['  ]| good sister gave a knowing laugh.
252:381,16['  ]| She led Isabel out of the room, through several
252:381,17['  ]| corridors, and up$4$ a long staircase.  All these departments
252:381,18['  ]| were solid and bare, light and clean; 
252:381,18@a   | so$5#2$, 
252:381,18['  ]| thought
252:381,19['  ]| Isabel, 
252:381,19@a   | are the great penal establishments.  
252:381,19['  ]| Madame*Catherine
252:381,20['  ]| gently pushed open the door of Pansy's
252:381,21['  ]| room and ushered in$5$ the visitor; then stood smiling
252:381,22['  ]| with folded hands while the two others met and
252:381,23['  ]| embraced.
252:381,24[V  ]| "She is glad to$9$ see you," 
252:381,24['  ]| she repeated; 
252:381,24[V  ]| "it will$1$ do
252:381,25[V  ]| her good."  
252:381,25['  ]| And she placed the best chair carefully
252:381,26['  ]| for$4$ Isabel.  But she made no$2$ movement to$9$ seat herself;
252:381,27['  ]| she seemed ready to$9$ retire.  
252:381,27[V  ]| "How does this dear child
252:381,28[V  ]| look?" 
252:381,28['  ]| she asked of Isabel, lingering a moment.
252:381,29[A  ]| "She looks pale," 
252:381,29['  ]| Isabel answered.
252:381,30[V  ]| "That$6#2$ is the pleasure of seeing you.  She is very
252:381,31[V  ]| happy.  \9Elle 9e=claire 9la 9maison\," 
252:381,31['  ]| said the good sister.
252:381,32['  ]|
252:382,01@a   | Pansy wore, as Madame*Merle had said, a little
252:382,02@a   | black dress; it was perhaps this that$6#1$ made her look
252:382,03@a   | pale.  
252:382,03[K  ]| "They are very good to$4$ me ~~ they think of
252:382,04[K  ]| everything!" 
252:382,04['  ]| she exclaimed with all her customary
252:382,05['  ]| eagerness to$9$ accommodate.
252:382,06[V  ]| "We think of you always ~~ you are a precious
252:382,07[V  ]| charge," 
252:382,07['  ]| Madame*Catherine remarked in$4$ the tone
252:382,08['  ]| of a woman with whom benevolence was a habit and
252:382,09['  ]| whose conception of duty was the acceptance of every
252:382,10['  ]| care.  It fell with a leaden weight on$4$ Isabel's ears; it
252:382,11['  ]| seemed to$9$ represent the surrender of a personality,
252:382,12['  ]| the authority of the Church.
252:382,13['  ]| When Madame*Catherine had left them together
252:382,14['  ]| Pansy kneeled down and hid her head in$4$ her stepmother's
252:382,15['  ]| lap.  So$3$ she remained some moments, while
252:382,16['  ]| Isabel gently stroked her hair.  Then she got up$5$, averting
252:382,17['  ]| her face and looking about the room.  
252:382,17[K  ]| "Do not you
252:382,18[K  ]| think I have arranged it well?  I have everything I have at
252:382,19[K  ]| home."
252:382,20[A  ]| "It is very pretty; you are very comfortable."  
252:382,20['  ]| Isabel
252:382,21['  ]| scarcely knew what she could say to$4$ her.  
252:382,21@a   | On$4$ the
252:382,22@a   | one hand she could not let her think she had come to$9$
252:382,23@a   | pity her, and on$4$ the other it would be a dull mockery
252:382,24@a   | to$9$ pretend to$9$ rejoice with her.  
252:382,24['  ]| So$3$ she simply added
252:382,25['  ]| after a moment:
252:382,25[A  ]| "I have come to$9$ bid you good-bye.
252:382,26[A  ]| I am going to$4$ England."
252:382,27['  ]| Pansy's white little face turned red.  
252:382,27[K  ]| "To$4$ England!
252:382,28[K  ]| Not to$9$ come back?"
252:382,29[A  ]| "I do not know when I shall come back."
252:382,30[K  ]| "Ah, I am sorry," 
252:382,30['  ]| Pansy breathed with faintness.
252:382,31['  ]| She spoke as if she had no$2$ right to$9$ criticise; but her
252:382,32['  ]| tone expressed a depth of disappointment.
252:383,01[A  ]| "My cousin, Mr%*Touchett, is very ill; he will$1$ probably
252:383,02[A  ]| die.  I wish to$9$ see him," 
252:383,02['  ]| Isabel said.
252:383,03[K  ]| "Ah yes; you told me he would die.  Of course
252:383,04[K  ]| you must go.  And will$1$ papa go?"
252:383,05[A  ]| "No$7$; I shall go alone."
252:383,06['  ]| For$4$ a moment the girl said nothing.  Isabel had
252:383,07['  ]| often wondered 
252:383,07@a   | what she thought of the apparent
252:383,08@a   | relations of her father with his wife; but never by$4$
252:383,09@a   | a glance, by$4$ an intimation, had she let it be seen that$3$
252:383,10@a   | she deemed them deficient in$4$ an air of intimacy.  She
252:383,11@a   | made her reflexions, 
252:383,11['  ]| Isabel was sure; 
252:383,11@a   | and she must
252:383,12@a   | have had a conviction that$3$ there were husbands and
252:383,13@a   | wives who$6#1$ were more intimate than that$6#2$.  
252:383,13['  ]| But Pansy
252:383,14['  ]| was not indiscreet even in$4$ thought; she would as little
252:383,15['  ]| have ventured to$9$ judge her gentle stepmother as to$9$
252:383,16['  ]| criticise her magnificent father.  Her heart may have
252:383,17['  ]| stood almost as still as it would have done had she seen
252:383,18['  ]| two of the saints in$4$ the great picture in$4$ the convent-chapel
252:383,19['  ]| turn their painted heads and shake them at
252:383,20['  ]| each other.  But as in$4$ this latter case she would (for$4$
252:383,21['  ]| very solemnity's sake) never have mentioned the
252:383,22['  ]| awful phenomenon, so$3$ she put away all knowledge
252:383,23['  ]| of the secrets of larger lives than her own.  
252:383,23[K  ]| "You will$1$
252:383,24[K  ]| be very far away," 
252:382,24['  ]| she presently went on$5$.
252:383,25[A  ]| "Yes; I shall be far away.  But it will$1$ scarcely matter,"
252:383,26['  ]| Isabel explained; 
252:383,26[A  ]| "since so$5#1$ long as you are here
252:383,27[A  ]| I can not be called near you."
252:383,28[K  ]| "Yes, but you can come and see me; though you have
252:383,29[K  ]| not come very often."
252:383,30[A  ]| "I have not come because your father forbade it.
252:383,31[A  ]| To-day I bring nothing with me.  I can not amuse
252:383,32[A  ]| you."
252:384,01[K  ]| "I am not to$9$ be amused.  That$6#2$ is not what papa
252:384,02[K  ]| wishes."
252:384,03[A  ]| "Then it hardly matters whether I am in$4$ Rome or
252:384,04[A  ]| in$4$ England."
252:384,05[K  ]| "You are not happy, Mrs%*Osmond," 
252:384,05['  ]| said Pansy.
252:384,06[A  ]| "Not very.  But it does not matter."
252:384,07[K  ]| "That$6#2$ is what I say to$4$ myself.  What does it matter?
252:384,08[K  ]| But I should like$1$ to$9$ come out."
252:384,09[A  ]| "I wish indeed you might."
252:384,10[K  ]| "Do not leave me here," 
252:384,10['  ]| Pansy went on$5$ gently.
252:384,11['  ]| Isabel said nothing for$4$ a minute; her heart beat
252:384,12['  ]| fast.  
252:384,12[A  ]| "Will$1$ you come away with me now?" 
252:384,12['  ]| she
252:384,13['  ]| asked.
252:384,14['  ]| Pansy looked at her pleadingly.  
252:384,14[K  ]| "Did papa tell
252:384,15[K  ]| you to$9$ bring me?"
252:384,16[A  ]| "No$7$; it is my own proposal."
252:384,17[K  ]| "I think I had better wait then.  Did papa send
252:384,18[K  ]| me no$2$ message?"
252:384,19[A  ]| "I do not think he knew I was coming."
252:384,20[K  ]| "He thinks I have not had enough," 
252:384,20['  ]| said Pansy.
252:384,21[K  ]| "But I have.  The ladies are very kind to$4$ me and the
252:384,22[K  ]| little girls come to$9$ see me.  There are some very little
252:384,23[K  ]| ones ~~ such charming children.  Then my room ~~
252:384,24[K  ]| you can see for$4$ yourself.  All that$6#2$ is very delightful.
252:384,25[K  ]| But I have had enough.  Papa wished me to$9$ think a little
252:384,26[K  ]| ~~ and I have thought a great deal."
252:384,27[A  ]| "What have you thought?"
252:384,28[K  ]| "Well, that$3$ I must never displease papa."
252:384,29[A  ]| "You knew that$6#2$ before."
252:384,30[K  ]| "Yes; but I know it better.  I will$1$ do anything ~~ I will$1$
252:384,31[K  ]| do anything," 
252:384,31['  ]| said Pansy.  Then, as she heard her
252:384,32['  ]| own words, a deep, pure blush came into her face 
252:385,01['  ]| Isabel read the meaning of it; she saw
252:385,01@a   | the poor girl
252:385,02@a   | had been vanquished.  It was well that$3$ Mr%*Edward*Rosier
252:385,03@a   | had kept his enamels!  
252:385,03['  ]| Isabel looked into her
252:385,04['  ]| eyes and saw there mainly a prayer to$9$ be treated easily.
252:385,05['  ]| She laid her hand on$4$ Pansy's as if to$9$ let her know that$3$
252:385,06['  ]| her look conveyed no$2$ diminution of esteem; for$3$ the
252:385,07['  ]| collapse of the girl's momentary resistance (mute and
252:385,08['  ]| modest thought it had been) seemed only her tribute to$4$
252:385,09['  ]| the truth of things.  She did not presume to$9$ judge
252:385,10['  ]| others, but she had judged herself; she had seen the
252:385,11['  ]| reality.  She had no$2$ vocation for$4$ struggling with combinations;
252:385,12['  ]| in$4$ the solemnity of sequestration there was
252:385,13['  ]| something that$6#1$ overwhelmed her.  She bowed her
252:385,14['  ]| pretty head to$4$ authority and only asked of authority
252:385,15['  ]| to$9$ be merciful.  
252:385,15@a   | Yes; it was very well that$3$ Edward*Rosier
252:385,16@a   | had reserved a few articles!
252:385,17['  ]| Isabel got up$5$; her time was rapidly shortening.
252:385,18[A  ]| "Good-bye then.  I leave Rome to-night."
252:385,19['  ]| Pansy took hold of her dress; there was a sudden
252:385,20['  ]| change in$4$ the child's face.  
252:385,20[K  ]| "You look strange; you
252:385,21[K  ]| frighten me."
252:385,22[A  ]| "Oh, I am very harmless," 
252:385,22['  ]| said Isabel.
252:385,23[K  ]| "Perhaps you will$1$ not come back?"
252:385,24[A  ]| "Perhaps not.  I can not tell."
252:385,25[K  ]| "Ah, Mrs%*Osmond, you will$1$ not leave me!"
252:385,26['  ]| Isabel now saw she had guessed everything.  
252:385,26[A  ]| "My
252:385,27[A  ]| dear child, what can I do for$4$ you?" 
252:385,27['  ]| she asked.
252:385,28[K  ]| "I do not know ~~ but I am happier when I think of
252:385,29[K  ]| you."
252:385,30[A  ]| "You can always think of me."
252:385,31[K  ]| "Not when you are so$5#1$ far.  I am a little afraid," 
252:385,31['  ]| said
252:385,32['  ]| Pansy.
252:386,01[A  ]| "What are you afraid of?"
252:386,02[K  ]| "Of papa ~~ a little.  And of Madame*Merle.  She
252:386,03[K  ]| has just been to$9$ see me."
252:386,04[A  ]| "You must not say that$6#2$," 
252:386,04['  ]| Isabel observed.
252:386,05[K  ]| "Oh, I will$1$ do everything they want.  Only if you are
252:386,06[K  ]| here I shall do it more easily."
252:386,07['  ]| Isabel considered.  
252:386,07[A  ]| "I will$1$ not desert you," 
252:386,07['  ]| she said
252:386,08['  ]| at last.  
252:386,08[A  ]| "Good-bye, my child."
252:386,09['  ]| Then they held each other a moment in$4$ a silent embrace,
252:386,10['  ]| like$4$ two sisters; and afterwards Pansy walked
252:386,11['  ]| along the corridor with her visitor to$4$ the top of the
252:386,12['  ]| staircase.  
252:386,12[K  ]| "Madame*Merle has been here,"  
252:386,12['  ]| she remarked
252:386,13['  ]| as they went; and as Isabel answered nothing
252:386,14['  ]| she added abruptly:
252:386,14[K  ]| "I do not like$1$ Madame*Merle!"
252:386,15['  ]| Isabel hesitated, then stopped.  
252:386,15[A  ]| "You must never
252:386,16[A  ]| say that$6#2$ ~~ that$3$ you do not like$1$ Madame*Merle."
252:386,17['  ]| Pansy looked at her in$4$ wonder; but wonder with
252:386,18['  ]| Pansy had never been a reason for$4$ non-compliance.
252:386,19[K  ]| "I never will$1$ again," 
252:386,19['  ]| she said with exquisite gentleness.
252:386,20['  ]| At the top of the staircase they had to$9$ separate,
252:386,21['  ]| as it appeared to$9$ be part of the mild but very definite
252:386,22['  ]| discipline under which$6#1$ Pansy lived that$3$ she should
252:386,23['  ]| not go down.  Isabel descended, and when she reached
252:386,24['  ]| the bottom the girl was standing above.  
252:386,24[K  ]| "You will$1$
252:386,25[K  ]| come back?" 
252:386,25['  ]| she called out in$4$ a voice that$6#1$ Isabel
252:386,26['  ]| remembered afterwards.
252:386,27[A  ]| "Yes ~~ I will$1$ come back."
252:386,28['  ]| Madame*Catherine met Mrs%*Osmond below and 
252:386,29['  ]| conducted her to$4$ the door of the parlour, outside of
252:386,30['  ]| which$6#1$ the two stood talking a minute.  
252:386,30[V  ]| "I will$1$ not go
252:386,31[V  ]| in$5$," 
252:386,31['  ]| said the good sister.  
252:386,31[V  ]| "Madame*Merle is waiting
252:386,32[V  ]| for$4$ you."
252:387,01['  ]| At this announcement Isabel stiffened; she was on$4$
252:387,02['  ]| the point of asking if there were no$2$ other egress from
252:387,03['  ]| the convent.  But a moment's reflexion assured her
252:387,04['  ]| that$3$ 
252:387,04@a   | she would do well not to$9$ betray to$4$ the worthy
252:387,05@a   | nun the desire to$9$ avoid Pansy's other friend.  
252:387,05['  ]| Her
252:387,06['  ]| companion grasped her arm very gently and, fixing
252:387,07['  ]| her a moment with wise, benevolent eyes, said in$4$
252:387,08['  ]| French and almost familiarly:
252:387,08[V  ]| "\9Eh 9bien, 9che`re 
252:387,09[V  ]| 9Madame, 9qu'en 9pensez-vous?\"
252:387,10[A  ]| "About my step-daughter?  Oh, it would take long
252:387,11[A  ]| to$9$ tell you."
252:387,12[V  ]| "We think it is enough," 
252:387,12['  ]| Madame*Catherine distinctly
252:387,13['  ]| observed.  And she pushed open the door of
252:387,14['  ]| the parlour.
252:387,15['  ]| Madame*Merle was sitting just as Isabel had left
252:387,16['  ]| her, like$4$ a woman so$5#1$ absorbed in$4$ thought that$3$ she had
252:387,17['  ]| not moved a little finger.  As Madame*Catherine
252:387,18['  ]| closed the door she got up$5$, and Isabel saw that$3$ 
252:387,18@a   | she
252:387,19@a   | had been thinking to$4$ some purpose.  She had recovered
252:387,20@a   | balance; she was in$4$ full possession of her
252:387,21@a   | resources.  
252:387,21[H  ]| "I found I wished to$9$ wait for$4$ you," 
252:387,21['  ]| she
252:387,22['  ]| said urbanely.  
252:387,22[H  ]| "But it is not to$9$ talk about Pansy."
252:387,23['  ]| Isabel wondered what it could be to$9$ talk about,
252:387,24['  ]| and in$4$ spite of Madame*Merle's declaration she answered
252:387,25['  ]| after a moment:
252:387,25[A  ]| "Madame*Catherine says
252:387,26[A  ]| it is enough."
252:387,27[H  ]| "Yes; it also seems to$4$ me enough.  I wanted to$9$
252:387,28[H  ]| ask you another word about poor Mr%*Touchett,"
252:387,29['  ]| Madame*Merle added.  
252:387,29[H  ]| "Have you reason to$9$ believe
252:387,30[H  ]| that$3$ he is really at his last?"
252:387,31[A  ]| "I have no$2$ information but a telegram.  Unfortunately
252:387,32[A  ]| it only confirms a probability."
252:388,01[H  ]| "I am going to$9$ ask you a strange question," 
252:388,01['  ]| said
252:388,02['  ]| Madame*Merle.  
252:388,02[H  ]| "Are you very fond of your cousin?"
252:388,03['  ]| And she gave a smile as strange as her utterance.
252:388,04[A  ]| "Yes, I am very fond of him.  But I do not understand
252:388,05[A  ]| you."
252:388,06['  ]| She just hung fire.  
252:388,06[H  ]| "It is rather hard to$9$ explain.
252:388,07[H  ]| Something has occurred to$4$ me which$6#1$ may not have
252:388,08[H  ]| occurred to$4$ you, and I give you the benefit of my
252:388,09[H  ]| idea.  Your cousin did you once a great service.
252:388,10[H  ]| Have you never guessed it?"
252:388,11[A  ]| "He has done me many services."
252:388,12[H  ]| "Yes; but one was much above the rest.  He made 
252:388,13[H  ]| you a rich woman."
252:388,14[A  ]| "\He\ made me ~~ ?"
252:388,15['  ]| Madame*Merle appearing to$9$ see herself successful,
252:388,16['  ]| she went on$5$ more triumphantly: 
252:388,16[H  ]| "He imparted to$4$
252:388,17[H  ]| you that$6#2$ extra lustre which$6#1$ was required to$9$ make
252:388,18[H  ]| you a brilliant match.  At bottom it is him you have to$9$
252:388,19[H  ]| thank."  
252:388,19['  ]| She stopped; there was something in$4$ Isabel's
252:388,20['  ]| eyes.
252:388,21[A  ]| "I do not understand you.  It was my uncle's
252:388,22[A  ]| money."
252:388,23[H  ]| "Yes; it was your uncle's money, but it was your
252:388,24[H  ]| cousin's idea.  He brought his father over to$4$ it.
252:388,25[H  ]| Ah, my dear, the sum was large!"
252:388,26['  ]| Isabel stood staring; she seemed to-day to$9$ live in$4$ a
252:388,27['  ]| world illumined by$4$ lurid flashes.  
252:388,27[A  ]| "I do not know why
252:388,28[A  ]| you say such things.  I do not know what you know."
252:388,29[H  ]| "I know nothing but what I have guessed.  But I have
252:388,30[H  ]| guessed that$6#2$."
252:388,31['  ]| Isabel went to$4$ the door and, when she had opened
252:388,32['  ]| it, stood a moment with her hand on$4$ the latch.  Then
252:389,01['  ]| she said ~~ it was her only revenge:
252:389,01[A  ]| "I believed it
252:389,02[A  ]| was you I had to$9$ thank!"
252:389,03['  ]| Madame*Merle dropped her eyes; she stood there
252:389,04['  ]| in$4$ a kind of proud penance.  
252:389,04[H  ]| "You are very unhappy,
252:389,05[H  ]| I know.  But I am more so$5#2$."
252:389,06[A  ]| "Yes; I can believe that$6#2$.  I think I should like$1$ never
252:389,07[A  ]| to$9$ see you again."
252:389,08['  ]| Madame*Merle raised her eyes.  
252:389,08[H  ]| "I shall go to$4$
252:389,09[H  ]| America," 
252:389,09['  ]| she quietly remarked while Isabel passed
252:389,10['  ]| out.
253:390,01['  ]| It was not with surprise, it was with a feeling which$6#1$
253:390,02['  ]| in$4$ other circumstances would have had much of the
253:390,03['  ]| effect of joy, that$3$ as Isabel descended from the Paris*Mail
253:390,04['  ]| at Charing*Cross she stepped into the arms, as
253:390,05['  ]| it were ~~ or at any rate into the hands ~~ of Henrietta*Stackpole.
253:390,06['  ]| She had telegraphed to$4$ her friend
253:390,07['  ]| from Turin, and though she had not definitely said to$4$
253:390,08['  ]| herself that$3$ Henrietta would meet her, she had felt
253:390,09@a   | her telegram would produce some helpful result.  
253:390,09['  ]| On$4$
253:390,10['  ]| her long journey from Rome her mind had been given
253:390,11['  ]| up$5$ to$4$ vagueness; she was unable to$9$ question the future.
253:390,12['  ]| She performed this journey with sightless eyes and
253:390,13['  ]| took little pleasure in$4$ the countries she traversed,
253:390,14['  ]| decked out though they were in$4$ the richest freshness
253:390,15['  ]| of spring.  Her thoughts followed their course through
253:390,16['  ]| other countries ~~ strange-looking, dimly-lighted,
253:390,17['  ]| pathless lands, in$4$ which$6#1$ there was no$2$ change of seasons,
253:390,18['  ]| but only, as it seemed, a perpetual dreariness of
253:390,19['  ]| winter.  She had plenty to$9$ think about; but it was
253:390,20['  ]| neither reflection nor conscious purpose that$6#1$ filled her
253:390,21['  ]| mind.  Disconnected visions passed through it, and
253:390,22['  ]| sudden dull gleams of memory, of expectation.  The
253:390,23['  ]| past and the future came and went at their will$0$, but
253:390,24['  ]| she saw them only in$4$ fitful images, which$6#1$ rose and fell
253:390,25['  ]| by$4$ a logic of their own.  It was extraordinary the things
253:390,26['  ]| she remembered.  Now that$3$ she was in$4$ the secret, now
253:390,27['  ]| that$3$ she knew something that$6#1$ so$5#1$ much concerned her
253:391,01['  ]| and the eclipse of which$6#1$ had made life resemble an attempt
253:391,02['  ]| to$9$ play whist with an imperfect pack of cards,
253:391,03['  ]| the truth of things, their mutual relations, their meaning,
253:391,04['  ]| and for$4$ the most part their horror, rose before her
253:391,05['  ]| with a kind of architectural vastness.  She remembered
253:391,06['  ]| a thousand trifles; they started to$4$ life with the
253:391,07['  ]| spontaneity of a shiver.  She had thought them trifles
253:391,08['  ]| at the time; now she saw that$3$ they had been weighted
253:391,09['  ]| with lead.  Yet even now they were trifles after all, for$3$
253:391,10['  ]| of what use was it to$4$ her to$9$ understand them?  Nothing
253:391,11['  ]| seemed of use to$4$ her to-day.  All purpose, all intention,
253:391,12['  ]| was suspended; all desire too save the single
253:391,13['  ]| desire to$9$ reach her much-embracing refuge.  Gardencourt
253:391,14['  ]| had been her starting-point, and to$4$ those
253:391,15['  ]| muffled chambers it was at least a temporary solution
253:391,16['  ]| to$9$ return.  She had gone forth in$4$ her strength; she
253:391,17['  ]| would come back in$4$ her weakness, and if the place
253:391,18['  ]| had been a rest to$4$ her before, it would be a sanctuary
253:391,19['  ]| now.  She envied Ralph his dying, for$3$ 
253:391,19@a   | if one were
253:391,20@a   | thinking of rest that$6#2$ was the most perfect of all.  To$9$
253:391,21@a   | cease utterly, to$9$ give it all up$5$ and not know anything
253:391,22@a   | more ~~ 
253:391,22['  ]| this idea was as sweet as the vision of a cool
253:391,23['  ]| bath in$4$ a marble tank, in$4$ a darkened chamber, in$4$
253:391,24['  ]| a hot land.
253:391,25['  ]| She had moments indeed in$4$ her journey from Rome
253:391,26['  ]| which$6#1$ were almost as good as being dead.  She sat in$4$
253:391,27['  ]| her corner, so$5#1$ motionless, so$5#1$ passive, simply with the
253:391,28['  ]| sense of being carried, so$5#1$ detached from hope and regret,
253:391,29['  ]| that$3$ she recalled to$4$ herself one of those Etruscan
253:391,30['  ]| figures couched upon$4$ the receptacle of their ashes.
253:391,31@a   | There was nothing to$9$ regret now ~~ that$6#2$ was all over.
253:391,32@a   | Not only the time of her folly, but the time of her
253:392,01@a   | repentance was far.  The only thing to$9$ regret was that$3$
253:392,02@a   | Madame*Merle had been so$5#1$ ~~ well, so$5#1$ unimaginable.
253:392,03['  ]| Just here her intelligence dropped, from literal inability
253:392,04['  ]| to$9$ say what it was that$6#1$ Madame*Merle had
253:392,05['  ]| been.  
253:392,05@a   | Whatever it was it was for$4$ Madame*Merle
253:392,06@a   | herself to$9$ regret it; and doubtless she would do so$5#2$ in$4$
253:392,07@a   | America, where she had announced she was going.  
253:392,07['  ]| It
253:392,08['  ]| concerned Isabel no$2$ more; she only had an impression
253:392,09['  ]| that$3$ 
253:392,09@a   | she should never again see Madame*Merle.  
253:392,09['  ]| This
253:392,10['  ]| impression carried her into the future, of which$6#1$ from
253:392,11['  ]| time to$4$ time she had a mutilated glimpse.  She saw
253:392,12['  ]| herself, in$4$ the distant years, still in$4$ the attitude of a
253:392,13['  ]| woman who$6#1$ had her life to$9$ live, and these intimations
253:392,14['  ]| contradicted the spirit of the present hour.  
253:392,14@a   | It might
253:392,15@a   | be desirable to$9$ get quite away, really away, further
253:392,16@a   | away than little grey-green England, but this privilege
253:392,17@a   | was evidently to$9$ be denied her.  
253:392,17['  ]| Deep in$4$ her soul 
253:392,18['  ]| ~~ deeper than any appetite for$4$ renunciation ~~ was
253:392,19['  ]| the sense that$3$ life would be her business for$4$ a long
253:392,20['  ]| time to$9$ come.  And at moments there was something
253:392,21['  ]| inspiring, almost enlivening, in$4$ the conviction.  It was
253:392,22['  ]| a proof of strength ~~ it was a proof she should some
253:392,23['  ]| day be happy again.  
253:392,23@a   | It could not be she was to$9$ live
253:392,24@a   | only to$9$ suffer; she was still young, after all, and a great
253:392,25@a   | many things might happen to$4$ her yet.  To$9$ live only to$9$
253:392,26@a   | suffer ~~ only to$9$ feel the injury of life repeated and
253:392,27@a   | enlarged ~~ 
253:392,27['  ]| it seemed to$4$ her 
253:392,27@a   | she was too valuable, too
253:392,28@a   | capable, for$4$ that$6#2$.  
253:392,28['  ]| Then she wondered 
253:392,28@a   | if it were vain
253:392,29@a   | and stupid to$9$ think so$5#1$ well of herself.  When had it
253:392,30@a   | even been a guarantee to$9$ be valuable?  Was not all history
253:392,31@a   | full of the destruction of precious things?  Was not
253:392,32@a   | it much more probable that$3$ if one were fine one would
253:393,01@a   | suffer?  It involved then perhaps an admission that$3$
253:393,02@a   | one had a certain grossness; 
253:393,02['  ]| but Isabel recognised, as
253:393,03['  ]| it passed before her eyes, the quick vague shadow of a
253:393,04['  ]| long future.  
253:393,04@a   | She should never escape; she should last
253:393,05@a   | to$4$ the end.  
253:393,05['  ]| Then the middle years wrapped her about
253:393,06['  ]| again and the grey curtain of her indifference closed
253:393,07['  ]| her in$5$.
253:393,08['  ]| Henrietta kissed her, as Henrietta usually kissed,
253:393,09['  ]| as if she were afraid she should be caught doing it;
253:393,10['  ]| and then Isabel stood there in$4$ the crowd, looking
253:393,11['  ]| about her, looking for$4$ her servant.  She asked nothing;
253:393,12['  ]| she wished to$9$ wait.  She had a sudden perception that$3$
253:393,13['  ]| she should be helped.  She rejoiced Henrietta had
253:393,14['  ]| come; there was something terrible in$4$ an arrival in$4$
253:393,15['  ]| London.  The dusky, smoky, far-arching vault of the
253:393,16['  ]| station, the strange, livid light, the dense, dark, pushing
253:393,17['  ]| crowd, filled her with a nervous fear and made her
253:393,18['  ]| put her arm into her friend's.  She remembered she
253:393,19['  ]| had once liked these things; she seemed part of a
253:393,20['  ]| mighty spectacle in$4$ which$6#1$ there was something that$6#1$ 
253:393,21['  ]| touched her.  She remembered how she walked away
253:393,22['  ]| from Euston, in$4$ the winter dusk, in$4$ the crowded
253:393,23['  ]| streets, five years before.  She could not have done
253:393,24['  ]| that$6#2$ to-day, and the incident came before her as the
253:393,25['  ]| deed of another person.
253:393,26[I  ]| "It is too beautiful that$3$ you should have come,"
253:393,27['  ]| said Henrietta, looking at her as if she thought Isabel
253:393,28['  ]| might be prepared to$9$ challenge the proposition.  
253:393,28[I  ]| "If
253:393,29[I  ]| you had not ~~ if you had not; well, I do not know,"
253:393,30['  ]| remarked Miss*Stackpole, hinting ominously at her
253:393,31['  ]| powers of disapproval.
253:393,32['  ]| Isabel looked about without seeing her maid.  Her
253:394,01['  ]| eyes rested on$4$ another figure, however, which$6#1$ she felt
253:394,02['  ]| she had seen before; and in$4$ a moment she recognised
253:394,03['  ]| the genial countenance of Mr%*Bantling.  He stood
253:394,04['  ]| a little apart, and it was not in$4$ the power of multitude
253:394,05['  ]| that$6#1$ pressed about him to$9$ make him yield an
253:394,06['  ]| inch of the ground he had taken ~~ that$6#2$ of abstracting
253:394,07['  ]| himself discreetly while the two ladies performed their
253:394,08['  ]| embraces.
253:394,09[A  ]| "There is Mr%*Bantling," 
253:394,09['  ]| said Isabel, gently irrelevantly,
253:394,10['  ]| scarcely caring much now whether she should
253:394,11['  ]| find her maid or not.
253:394,12[I  ]| "Oh yes, he goes everywhere with me.  Come here,
253:394,13[I  ]| Mr%*Bantling!" 
253:394,13['  ]| Henrietta exclaimed.  Whereupon
253:394,14['  ]| the gallant bachelor advanced with a smile ~~ a smile
253:394,15['  ]| tempered, however, by$4$ the gravity of the occasion.
253:394,16[I  ]| "Is not it lovely she has come?" 
253:394,16['  ]| Henrietta asked.
253:394,17[I  ]| "He knows all about it," 
253:394,17['  ]| she added; 
253:394,17[I  ]| "we had
253:394,18[I  ]| quite a discussion.  He said you would not, I said you
253:394,19[I  ]| would."
253:394,20[A  ]| "I thought you always agreed," 
253:394,20['  ]| Isabel smiled in$4$
253:394,21['  ]| return.  She felt she could smile now; she had seen
253:394,22['  ]| in$4$ an instant, in$4$ Mr%*Bantling's brave eyes, that$3$ he
253:394,23['  ]| had good news for$4$ her.  They seemed to$9$ say he wished
253:394,24['  ]| her to$9$ remember he was an old friend of her cousin ~~
253:394,25['  ]| that$3$ he understood, that$3$ it was all right.  Isabel gave
253:394,26['  ]| him her hand; she thought of him, extravagantly, as
253:394,27['  ]| a beautiful blameless knight.
253:394,28[W  ]| "Oh, I always agree," 
253:394,28['  ]| said Mr%*Bantling.  
253:394,28[W  ]| "But
253:394,29[W  ]| she does not, you know."
253:394,30[I  ]| "Did not I tell you that$3$ a maid was a nuisance?"
253:394,31['  ]| Henrietta enquired.  
253:394,31[I  ]| "Your young lady has probably
253:394,32[I  ]| remained at Calais."
253:395,01[A  ]| "I do not care," 
253:395,01['  ]| said Isabel, looking at Mr%*Bantling,
253:395,02['  ]| whom she had never found so$5#1$ interesting.
253:395,03[I  ]| "Stay with her while I go and see," 
253:395,03['  ]| Henrietta
253:395,04['  ]| commanded, leaving the two for$4$ a moment together.
253:395,05['  ]| They stood there at first in$4$ silence, and then
253:395,06['  ]| Mr%*Bantling asked Isabel how it had been on$4$ the
253:395,07['  ]| Channel.
253:395,08[A  ]| "Very fine.  No$7$, I believe it was very rough," 
253:395,08['  ]| she
253:395,09['  ]| said, to$4$ her companion's obvious surprise.  After
253:395,10['  ]| which$6#1$ she added:
253:395,10[A  ]| "You have been to$4$ Gardencourt,
253:395,11[A  ]| I know."
253:395,12[W  ]| "Now how do you know that$6#2$?"
253:395,13[A  ]| "I can not tell you ~~ except that$3$ you look like$4$ a
253:395,14[A  ]| person who$6#1$ has been to$4$ Gardencourt."
253:395,15[W  ]| "Do you think I look awfully sad?  It is awfully
253:395,16[W  ]| sad there, you know."
253:395,17[A  ]| "I do not believe you ever look awfully sad.  You
253:395,18[A  ]| look awfully kind," 
253:395,18['  ]| said Isabel with a breadth that$6#1$
253:395,19['  ]| cost her no$2$ effort.  It seemed to$4$ her 
253:395,19@a   | she should never
253:395,20@a   | again feel a superficial embarrassment.
253:395,21['  ]| Poor Mr%*Bantling, however, was still in$4$ this
253:395,22['  ]| inferior stage.  He blushed a good deal and laughed,
253:395,23['  ]| he assured her that$3$ 
253:395,23@w   | he was often very blue, 
253:395,23['  ]| and that$3$
253:395,24@w   | when he was blue he was awfully fierce.  
253:395,24[W  ]| "You can
253:395,25[W  ]| ask Miss*Stackpole, you know.  I was at Gardencourt
253:395,26[W  ]| two days ago."
253:395,27[A  ]| "Did you see my cousin?"
253:395,28[W  ]| "Only for$4$ a little.  But he had been seeing people;
253:395,29[W  ]| Warburton had been there the day before.  Ralph
253:395,30[W  ]| was just the same as usual, except that$3$ he was in$4$ bed
253:395,31[W  ]| and that$3$ he looks tremendously ill and that$3$ he can not
253:395,32[W  ]| speak," 
253:395,32['  ]| Mr%*Bantling pursued.  
253:395,32[W  ]| "He was awfully
253:396,01[W  ]| jolly and funny all the same.  He was just as clever
253:396,02[W  ]| as ever.  It is awfully wretched."
253:396,03['  ]| Even in$4$ the crowded, noisy station this simple
253:396,04['  ]| picture was vivid.  
253:396,04[A  ]| "Was that$6#2$ late in$4$ the day?"
253:396,05[W  ]| "Yes; I went on$4$ purpose.  We thought you would like$1$
253:396,06[W  ]| to$9$ know."
253:396,07[A  ]| "I am greatly obliged to$4$ you.  Can I go down to-night?"
253:396,08[A  ]|
253:396,09[W  ]| "Ah, I do not think \she will$1$\ let you go," 
253:396,09['  ]| said Mr%*Bantling.
253:396,10[W  ]| "She wants you to$9$ stop with her.  I made
253:396,11[W  ]| Touchett's man promise to$9$ telegraph me to-day, and
253:396,12[W  ]| I found the telegram an hour ago at my club.  ""Quiet
253:396,13[W  ]| and easy,"" that$6#2$ is what it says, and it is dated two
253:396,14[W  ]| o'clock.  So$3$ you see you can wait till to-morrow.
253:396,15[W  ]| You must be awfully tired."
253:396,16[A  ]| "Yes, I am awfully tired.  And I thank you again."
253:396,17[W  ]| "Oh," 
253:396,17['  ]| said Mr%*Bantling, 
253:396,17[W  ]| "we were certain you
253:396,18[W  ]| would like$1$ the last news."  
253:396,18['  ]| On$4$ which$6#1$ Isabel vaguely
253:396,19['  ]| noted that$3$ 
253:396,19@a   | he and Henrietta seemed after all to$9$ agree.
253:396,20['  ]| Miss*Stackpole came back with Isabel's maid,
253:396,21['  ]| whom she had caught in$4$ the act of proving her utility.
253:396,22['  ]| This excellent person, instead of losing herself in$4$ the
253:396,23['  ]| crowd, had simply attended to$4$ her mistress's luggage,
253:396,24['  ]| so$3$ that$3$ the latter was now at liberty to$9$ leave the
253:396,25['  ]| station.  
253:396,25[I  ]| "You know you are not to$9$ think of going to$4$
253:396,26[I  ]| the country to-night," 
253:396,26['  ]| Henrietta remarked to$4$ her.
253:396,27[I  ]| "It does not matter whether there is a train or not.
253:396,28[I  ]| You are to$9$ come straight to$4$ me in$4$ Wimpole*Street.
253:396,29[I  ]| There is not a corner to$9$ be had in$4$ London, but I have
253:396,30[I  ]| got you one all the same.  It is not a Roman palace,
253:396,31[I  ]| but it will$1$ do for$4$ a night."
253:396,32[A  ]| "I will$1$ do whatever you wish," 
253:396,32['  ]| Isabel said.
253:397,01[I  ]| "You will$1$ come and answer a few questions; that$6#2$ is
253:397,02[I  ]| what I wish."
253:397,03[W  ]| "She does not say anything about dinner, does she,
253:397,04[W  ]| Mrs%*Osmond?" 
253:397,04['  ]| Mr%*Bantling enquired jocosely.
253:397,05['  ]| Henrietta fixed him a moment with her speculative
253:397,06['  ]| gaze.  
253:397,06[I  ]| "I see you are in$4$ a great hurry to$9$ get your own.
253:397,07[I  ]| You will$1$ be at the Paddington*Station to-morrow
253:397,08[I  ]| morning at ten."
253:397,09[A  ]| "Do not come for$4$ my sake, Mr%*Bantling," 
253:397,09['  ]| said
253:397,10['  ]| Isabel.
253:397,11[I  ]| "He will$1$ come for$4$ mine," 
253:397,11['  ]| Henrietta declared as she
253:397,12['  ]| ushered her friend into a cab.  And later, in$4$ a large
253:397,13['  ]| dusky parlour in$4$ Wimpole*Street ~~ to$9$ do her justice
253:397,14['  ]| there had been dinner enough ~~ she asked those
253:397,15['  ]| questions to$4$ which$6#1$ she had alluded at the station.
253:397,16[I  ]| "Did your husband make you a scene about your
253:397,17[I  ]| coming?"  
253:397,17['  ]| That$6#2$ was Miss Stackpole's first enquiry.
253:397,18[A  ]| "No$7$; I can not say he made a scene."
253:397,19[I  ]| "He did not object then?"
253:397,20[A  ]| "Yes, he objected very much.  But it was not what
253:397,21[A  ]| you would call a scene."
253:397,22[I  ]| "What was it then?"
253:397,23[A  ]| "It was a very quiet conversation."
253:397,24['  ]| Henrietta for$4$ a moment regarded her guest.  
253:397,24[I  ]| "It
253:397,25[I  ]| must have been hellish," 
253:397,25['  ]| she then remarked.  And
253:397,26['  ]| Isabel did not deny that$3$ it had been hellish.  But she
253:397,27['  ]| confined herself to$4$ answering Henrietta's questions,
253:397,28['  ]| which$6#1$ was easy, as they were tolerably definite.  For$4$
253:397,29['  ]| the present she offered her no$2$ new information.
253:397,30[I  ]| "Well," 
253:397,30['  ]| said Miss*Stackpole at last, 
253:397,30[I  ]| "I have only one
253:397,31[I  ]| criticism to$9$ make.  I do not see why you promised
253:397,32[I  ]| little Miss*Osmond to$9$ go back."
253:398,01[A  ]| "I am not sure I myself see now," 
253:398,01['  ]| Isabel replied.
253:398,02[A  ]| "But I did then."
253:398,03[I  ]| "If you have forgotten your reason perhaps you
253:398,04[I  ]| will$1$ not return."
253:398,05['  ]| Isabel waited a moment.  
253:398,05[A  ]| "Perhaps I shall find
253:398,06[A  ]| another."
253:398,07[I  ]| "You will$1$ certainly never find a good one."
253:398,08[A  ]| "In$4$ default of a better my having promised will$1$
253:398,09[A  ]| do," 
253:398,09['  ]| Isabel suggested.
253:398,10[I  ]| "Yes; that$6#2$ is why I hate it."
253:398,11[A  ]| "Do not speak of it now.  I have a little time.  Coming
253:398,12[A  ]| away was a complication, but what will$1$ going back
253:398,13[A  ]| be?"
253:398,14[I  ]| "You must remember, after all, that$3$ he will$1$ not
253:398,15[I  ]| make you a scene!"  
253:398,15['  ]| said Henrietta with much intention.
253:398,16['  ]|
253:398,17[A  ]| "He will$1$, though," 
253:398,17['  ]| Isabel answered gravely.  
253:398,17[A  ]| "It
253:398,18[A  ]| will$1$ not be the scene of a moment; it will$1$ be a scene
253:398,19[A  ]| of the rest of my life."
253:398,20['  ]| For$4$ some minutes the two women sat and considered
253:398,21['  ]| this remainder, and then Miss*Stackpole,
253:398,22['  ]| to$9$ change the subject, as Isabel had requested,
253:398,23['  ]| announced abruptly:  
253:398,23[I  ]| "I have been to$9$ stay with Lady*Pensil!"
253:398,24[I  ]|
253:398,25[A  ]| "Ah, the invitation came at last!"
253:398,26[I  ]| "Yes; it took five years.  But this time she wanted
253:398,27[I  ]| to$9$ see me."
253:398,28[A  ]| "Naturally enough."
253:398,29[I  ]| "It was more natural than I think you know,"
253:398,30['  ]| said Henrietta, who$6#1$ fixed her eyes on$4$ a distant point.
253:398,31['  ]| And then she added, turning suddenly:
253:398,31[I  ]| "Isabel*Archer,
253:398,32[I  ]| I beg your pardon.  You do not know why?
253:399,01[I  ]| Because I criticised you, and yet I have gone further
253:399,02[I  ]| than you.  Mr%*Osmond, at least, was born on$4$ the
253:399,03[I  ]| other side!"
253:399,04['  ]| It was a moment before Isabel grasped her meaning;
253:399,05['  ]| this sense was so$5#1$ modestly, or at least so$5#1$ ingeniously,
253:399,06['  ]| veiled.  Isabel's mind was not possessed at
253:399,07['  ]| present with the comicality of things; but she greeted
253:399,08['  ]| with a quick laugh the image that$6#1$ her companion
253:399,09['  ]| had raised.  She immediately recovered herself, however,
253:399,10['  ]| and with the right excess of intensity, 
253:399,10[A  ]| "Henrietta*Stackpole,"
253:399,11['  ]| she asked, 
253:399,11[A  ]| "are you going to$9$ give up$5$
253:399,12[A  ]| your country?"
253:399,13[I  ]| "Yes, my poor Isabel, I am.  I will$1$ not pretend to$9$
253:399,14[I  ]| deny it; I look the fact in$4$ the face.  I am going
253:399,15[I  ]| to$9$ marry Mr%*Bantling and locate right here in$4$
253:399,16[I  ]| London."
253:399,17[A  ]| "It seems very strange," 
253:399,17['  ]| said Isabel, smiling now.
253:399,18[I  ]| "Well yes, I suppose it does.  I have come to$4$ it little
253:399,19[I  ]| by$4$ little.  I think I know what I am doing; but I do not
253:399,20[I  ]| know as I can explain."
253:399,21[A  ]| "One can not explain one's marriage," 
253:399,21['  ]| Isabel answered.
253:399,22[A  ]| "And yours does not need to$9$ be explained.
253:399,23[A  ]| Mr%*Bantling is not a riddle."
253:399,24[I  ]| "No$7$, he is not a bad pun ~~ or even a high flight
253:399,25[I  ]| of American humour.  He has a beautiful nature,"
253:399,26['  ]| Henrietta went on$5$.  
253:399,26[I  ]| "I have studied him for$4$ many
253:399,27[I  ]| years and I see right through him.  He is as clear as
253:399,28[I  ]| the style of a good prospectus.  He is not intellectual,
253:399,29[I  ]| but he appreciates intellect.  On$4$ the other hand he
253:399,30[I  ]| does not exaggerate its claims.  I sometimes think
253:399,31[I  ]| we do in$4$ the United*States."
253:399,32[A  ]| "Ah," 
253:399,32['  ]| said Isabel, 
253:399,32[A  ]| "you are changed indeed!  It is
253:400,01[A  ]| the first time I have ever heard you say anything against
253:400,02[A  ]| your native land."
253:400,03[I  ]| "I only say that$3$ we are too infatuated with mere
253:400,04[I  ]| brain-power; that$6#2$, after all, is not a vulgar fault.
253:400,05[I  ]| But I \am\ changed; a woman has to$9$ change a good
253:400,06[I  ]| deal to$9$ marry."
253:400,07[A  ]| "I hope you will$1$ be very happy.  You will$1$ at last ~~
253:400,08[A  ]| over here ~~ see something of the inner life."
253:400,09['  ]| Henrietta gave a little significant sigh.  
253:400,09[I  ]| "That$6#2$ is
253:400,10[I  ]| the key to$4$ the mystery, I believe.  I could not endure
253:400,11[I  ]| to$9$ be kept off.  Now I have as good a right as any*one!"
253:400,12['  ]| she added with artless elation.
253:400,13['  ]| Isabel was duly diverted, but there was a certain
253:400,14['  ]| melancholy in$4$ her view.  
253:400,14@a   | Henrietta, after all, had
253:400,15@a   | confessed herself human and feminine, Henrietta
253:400,16@a   | whom she had hitherto regarded as a light keen
253:400,17@a   | flame, a disembodied voice.  It was a disappointment
253:400,18@a   | to$9$ find she had personal susceptibilities, that$3$ she was
253:400,19@a   | subject to$4$ common passions, and that$3$ her intimacy
253:400,20@a   | with Mr%*Bantling had not been completely original.
253:400,21@a   | There was a want of originality in$4$ her marrying him
253:400,22@a   | ~~ there was even a kind of stupidity; 
253:400,22['  ]| and for$4$ a
253:400,23['  ]| moment, to$4$ Isabel's sense, the dreariness of the world
253:400,24['  ]| took on$5$ a deeper tinge.  A little later indeed she reflected
253:400,25['  ]| that$3$ 
253:400,25@a   | Mr%*Bantling himself at least was original.
253:400,26@a   | But she did not see how Henrietta could give up$5$ her
253:400,27@a   | country.  She herself had relaxed her hold of it, but
253:400,28@a   | it had never been her country as it had been Henrietta's.
253:400,29['  ]| She presently asked her if she had enjoyed
253:400,30['  ]| her visit to$4$ Lady*Pensil.
253:400,31[I  ]| "Oh yes," 
253:400,31['  ]| said Henrietta, 
253:400,31[I  ]| "she did not know what 
253:400,32[I  ]| to$9$ make of me."
253:401,01[A  ]| "And was that$6#2$ very enjoyable?"
253:401,02[I  ]| "Very much so$5#2$, because she is supposed to$9$ be a
253:401,03[I  ]| master mind.  She thinks she knows everything; but
253:401,04[I  ]| she does not understand a woman of my modern type.
253:401,05[I  ]| It would be so$5#1$ much easier for$4$ her if I were only a
253:401,06[I  ]| little better or a little worse.  She is so$5#1$ puzzled; I believe
253:401,07[I  ]| she thinks it is my duty to$9$ go and do something
253:401,08[I  ]| immoral.  She thinks it is immoral that$3$ I should
253:401,09[I  ]| marry her brother; but, after all, that$6#2$ is not immoral
253:401,10[I  ]| enough.  And she will$1$ never understand my mixture ~~
253:401,11[I  ]| never!"
253:401,12[A  ]| "She is not so$5#1$ intelligent as her brother then,"
253:401,13['  ]| said Isabel.  
253:401,13[A  ]| "He appears to$9$ have understood."
253:401,14[I  ]| "Oh no$7$, he has not!"  
253:401,14['  ]| cried Miss*Stackpole with
253:401,15['  ]| decision.  
253:401,15[I  ]| "I really believe that$6#2$ is what he wants to$9$
253:401,16[I  ]| marry me for$4$ ~~ just to$9$ find out the mystery and the 
253:401,17[I  ]| proportions of it.  That$6#2$ is a fixed idea ~~ a kind of
253:401,18[I  ]| fascination."
253:401,19[A  ]| "It is very good in$4$ you to$9$ humour it."
253:401,20[I  ]| "Oh well," 
253:401,20['  ]| said Henrietta.  
253:401,20[I  ]| "I have something to$9$
253:401,21[I  ]| find out too!"  
253:401,21['  ]| And Isabel saw that$3$ she had not
253:401,22['  ]| renounced an allegiance, but planned an attack.  She
253:401,23['  ]| was at last about to$9$ grapple in$4$ earnest with England.
253:401,24['  ]| Isabel also perceived, however, on$4$ the morrow, at
253:401,25['  ]| the Paddington*Station, where she found herself, at
253:401,26['  ]| ten o'clock, in$4$ the company both of Miss*Stackpole
253:401,27['  ]| and Mr%*Bantling, that$3$ 
253:401,27@a   | the gentleman bore his perplexities
253:401,28@a   | lightly.  If he had not found out everything
253:401,29@a   | he had found out at least the great point ~~ that$3$ Miss*Stackpole
253:401,30@a   | would not be wanting in$4$ initiative.  It was
253:401,31@a   | evident that$3$ in$4$ the selection of a wife he had been on$4$
253:401,32@a   | his guard against this deficiency.
253:402,01[A  ]| "Henrietta has told me, and I am very glad,"
253:402,02['  ]| Isabel said as she gave him her hand.
253:402,03[W  ]| "I dare say you think it awfully odd," 
253:402,03['  ]| Mr%*Bantling
253:402,04['  ]| replied, resting on$4$ his neat umbrella.
253:402,05[A  ]| "Yes, I think it awfully odd."
253:402,06[W  ]| "You can not think it so$5#1$ awfully odd as I do.  But
253:402,07[W  ]| I have always rather liked striking out a line," 
253:402,07['  ]| said Mr%*Bantling
253:402,08['  ]| serenely.
254:403,01['  ]| Isabel's arrival at Gardencourt on$4$ this second occasion
254:403,02['  ]| was even quieter than it had been on$4$ the first.
254:403,03['  ]| Ralph*Touchett kept but a small household, and to$4$
254:403,04['  ]| the new servants Mrs%*Osmond was a stranger; so$3$
254:403,05['  ]| that$3$ instead of being conducted to$4$ her own apartment
254:403,06['  ]| she was coldly shown into the drawing-room and
254:403,07['  ]| left to$9$ wait while her name was carried up$5$ to$4$ her
254:403,08['  ]| aunt.  She waited a long time; Mrs%*Touchett appeared
254:403,09['  ]| in$4$ no$2$ hurry to$9$ come to$4$ her.  She grew impatient
254:403,10['  ]| at last; she grew nervous and scared ~~ as
254:403,11['  ]| scared as if the objects about her had begun to$9$ show
254:403,12['  ]| for$4$ conscious things, watching her trouble with grotesque
254:403,13['  ]| grimaces.  The day was dark and cold; the
254:403,14['  ]| dusk was thick in$4$ the corners of the wide brown
254:403,15['  ]| rooms.  The house was perfectly still ~~ with a stillness
254:403,16['  ]| that$6#1$ Isabel remembered; 
254:403,16@a   | it had filled all the
254:403,17@a   | place the days before the death of her uncle.  
254:403,17['  ]| She left
254:403,18['  ]| the drawing-room and wandered about ~~ strolled
254:403,19['  ]| into the library and along the gallery of pictures,
254:403,20['  ]| where, in$4$ the deep silence, her footstep made an 
254:403,21['  ]| echo.  
254:403,21@a   | Nothing was changed; 
254:403,21['  ]| she recognised everything 
254:403,22['  ]| she had seen years before; 
254:403,22@a   | it might have been
254:403,23@a   | only yesterday she had stood there.  
254:403,23['  ]| She envied the
254:403,24['  ]| security of valuable "pieces" which$6#1$ change by$4$ no$2$
254:403,25['  ]| hair's breadth, only grow in$4$ value, while their owners
254:403,26['  ]| lose inch by$4$ inch youth, happiness, beauty; and she
254:403,27['  ]| became aware that$3$ 
254:403,27@a   | she was walking about as her aunt
254:403,28@a   | had done on$4$ the day she had come to$9$ see her in$4$
254:404,01@a   | Albany.  She was changed enough since then ~~ that$6#2$
254:404,02@a   | had been the beginning.  
254:404,02['  ]| It suddenly struck her that$3$
254:404,03@a   | if her Aunt Lydia had not come that$6#2$ day in$4$ just that$6#2$
254:404,04@a   | way and found her alone, everything might have been
254:404,05@a   | different.  She might have had another life and she
254:404,06@a   | might have been a woman more blest.  
254:404,06['  ]| She stopped
254:404,07['  ]| in$4$ the gallery in$4$ front of a small picture ~~ a charming
254:404,08['  ]| and precious Bonington ~~ upon$4$ which$6#1$ her eyes
254:404,09['  ]| rested a long time.  But she was not looking at the
254:404,10['  ]| picture; she was wondering 
254:404,10@a   | whether if her aunt had
254:404,11@a   | not come that$6#2$ day in$4$ Albany she would have married
254:404,12@a   | Caspar*Goodwood.
254:404,13['  ]| Mrs%*Touchett appeared at last, just after Isabel
254:404,14['  ]| had returned to$4$ the big uninhabited drawing-room.
254:404,15@a   | She looked a good deal older, but her eye was as
254:404,16@a   | bright as ever and her head as erect; her thin lips
254:404,17@a   | seemed a repository of latent meanings.  She wore
254:404,18@a   | a little grey dress of the most undecorated fashion,
254:404,19['  ]| and Isabel wondered, as she had wondered the first
254:404,20['  ]| time, 
254:404,20@a   | if her remarkable kinswoman resembled more
254:404,21@a   | a queen-regent or the matron of a gaol.  
254:404,21['  ]| Her lips felt
254:404,22['  ]| very thin indeed on$4$ Isabel's hot cheek.
254:404,23[G  ]| "I have kept you waiting because I have been sitting
254:404,24[G  ]| with Ralph," 
254:404,24['  ]| Mrs%*Touchett said.  
254:404,24[G  ]| "The nurse had
254:404,25[G  ]| gone to$4$ luncheon and I had taken her place.  He has
254:404,26[G  ]| a man who$6#1$ is supposed to$9$ look after him, but the
254:404,27[G  ]| man is good for$4$ nothing; he is always looking out
254:404,28[G  ]| of the window ~~ as if there were anything to$9$ see!
254:404,29[G  ]| I did not wish to$9$ move, because Ralph seemed to$9$ be
254:404,30[G  ]| sleeping and I was afraid the sound would disturb
254:404,31[G  ]| him.  I waited till the nurse came back.  I remembered
254:404,32[G  ]| you knew the house."
254:405,01[A  ]| "I find I know it better even than I thought; I have
254:405,02[A  ]| been walking everywhere," 
254:405,02['  ]| Isabel answered.  And
254:405,03['  ]| then she asked if Ralph slept much.
254:405,04[G  ]| "He lies with his eyes closed; he does not move.
254:405,05[G  ]| But I am not sure that$3$ it is always sleep."
254:405,06[A  ]| "Will$1$ he see me?  Can he speak to$4$ me?"
254:405,07['  ]| Mrs%*Touchett declined the office of saying.  
254:405,07[G  ]| "You
254:405,08[G  ]| can try him," 
254:405,08['  ]| was the limit of her extravagance.  And
254:405,09['  ]| then she offered to$9$ conduct Isabel to$4$ her room.  
254:405,09[G  ]| "I
254:405,10[G  ]| thought they had taken you there; but it is not my
254:405,11[G  ]| house, it is Ralph's; and I do not know what they do.
254:405,12[G  ]| They must at least have taken your luggage; I do not
254:405,13[G  ]| suppose you have brought much.  Not that$3$ I care, however.
254:405,14[G  ]| I believe they have given you the same room you
254:405,15[G  ]| had before; when Ralph heard you were coming he
254:405,16[G  ]| said you must have that$6#2$ one."
254:405,17[A  ]| "Did he say anything else?"
254:405,18[G  ]| "Ah, my dear, he does not chatter as he used!"
254:405,19['  ]| cried Mrs%*Touchett as she preceded her niece up$4$ the
254:405,20['  ]| staircase.
254:405,21['  ]| It was the same room, and something told Isabel
254:405,22['  ]| it had not been slept in$5$ since she occupied it.  Her
254:405,23['  ]| luggage was there and was not voluminous; Mrs%*Touchett
254:405,24['  ]| sat down a moment with her eyes upon$4$ it.
254:405,25[A  ]| "Is there really no$2$ hope?"  
254:405,25['  ]| our young woman asked
254:405,26['  ]| as she stood before her.
254:405,27[G  ]| "None whatever.  There never has been.  It has
254:405,28[G  ]| not been a successful life."
254:405,29[A  ]| "No$7$ ~~ it has only been a beautiful one."  
254:405,29['  ]| Isabel
254:405,30['  ]| found herself already contradicting her aunt; she
254:405,31['  ]| was irritated by$4$ her dryness.
254:405,32[G  ]| "I do not know what you mean by$4$ that$6#2$; there is no$2$
254:406,01[G  ]| beauty without health.  That$6#2$ is a very odd dress to$9$
254:406,02[G  ]| travel in$4$."
254:406,03['  ]| Isabel glanced at her garment.  
254:406,03[A  ]| "I left Rome at an
254:406,04[A  ]| hour's notice; I took the first that$6#1$ came."
254:406,05[G  ]| "Your sisters, in$4$ America, wished to$9$ know how
254:406,06[G  ]| you dress.  That$6#2$ seemed to$9$ be their principal interest.
254:406,07[G  ]| I was not able to$9$ tell them ~~ but they seemed to$9$ have
254:406,08[G  ]| the right idea: that$3$ you never wear anything less
254:406,09[G  ]| than black brocade."
254:406,10[A  ]| "They think I am more brilliant than I am; I am
254:406,11[A  ]| afraid to$9$ tell them the truth," 
254:406,11['  ]| said Isabel.  
254:406,11[A  ]| "Lily
254:406,12[A  ]| wrote me you had dined with her."
254:406,13[G  ]| "She invited me four times, and I went once.  After
254:406,14[G  ]| the second time she should have let me alone.  The
254:406,15[G  ]| dinner was very good; it must have been expensive.
254:406,16[G  ]| Her husband has a very bad manner.  Did I enjoy
254:406,17[G  ]| my visit to$4$ America?  Why should I have enjoyed it?
254:406,18[G  ]| I did not go for$4$ my pleasure."
254:406,19['  ]| These were interesting items, but Mrs%*Touchett
254:406,20['  ]| soon left her niece, whom she was to$9$ meet in$4$ half an
254:406,21['  ]| hour at the midday meal.  For$4$ this repast the two
254:406,22['  ]| ladies faced each other at an abbreviated table in$4$ the
254:406,23['  ]| melancholy dining-room.  Here, after a little, Isabel
254:406,24['  ]| saw her aunt not to$9$ be so$5#1$ dry as she appeared, and
254:406,25['  ]| her old pity for$4$ the poor woman's inexpressiveness,
254:406,26['  ]| her want of regret, of disappointment, came back
254:406,27['  ]| to$4$ her.  
254:406,27@a   | Unmistakeably she would have found it a
254:406,28@a   | blessing to-day to$9$ be able to$9$ feel a defeat, a mistake,
254:406,29@a   | even a shame or two.  
254:406,29['  ]| She wondered 
254:406,29@a   | if she were not
254:406,30@a   | even missing those enrichments of consciousness and
254:406,31@a   | privately trying ~~ reaching out for$4$ some aftertaste
254:406,32@a   | of life, dregs of the banquet; the testimony of pain
254:407,01@a   | or the cold recreation of remorse.  On$4$ the other hand
254:407,02@a   | perhaps she was afraid; if she should begin to$9$ know
254:407,03@a   | remorse at all it might take her too far.  
254:407,03['  ]| Isabel could
254:407,04['  ]| perceive, however, how 
254:407,04@a   | it had come over her dimly
254:407,05@a   | that$3$ she had failed of something, that$3$ she saw herself
254:407,06@a   | in$4$ the future as an old woman without memories.
254:407,07@a   | Her little sharp face looked tragical.  
254:407,07['  ]| She told her
254:407,08['  ]| niece that$3$ 
254:407,08@g   | Ralph had as yet not moved, but that$3$ he
254:407,09@g   | probably would be able to$9$ see her before dinner.
254:407,10['  ]| And then in$4$ a moment she added that$3$ 
254:407,10@g   | he had seen
254:407,11@g   | Lord*Warburton the day before; 
254:407,11['  ]| an announcement
254:407,12['  ]| which$6#1$ startled Isabel a little, as it seemed an intimation
254:407,13['  ]| that$3$ 
254:407,13@a   | this personage was in$4$ the neighbourhood and
254:407,14@a   | that$3$ an accident might bring them together.  Such
254:407,15@a   | an accident would not be happy; she had not come
254:407,16@a   | to$4$ England to$9$ struggle again with Lord*Warburton.
254:407,17['  ]| She none the less presently said to$4$ her aunt that$3$ 
254:407,17@a   | he
254:407,18@a   | had been very kind to$4$ Ralph; she had seen something
254:407,19@a   | of that$6#2$ in$4$ Rome.
254:407,20[G  ]| "He has something else to$9$ think of now," 
254:407,20['  ]| Mrs%*Touchett
254:407,21['  ]| returned.  And she paused with a gaze like$4$
254:407,22['  ]| a gimlet.
254:407,23['  ]| Isabel saw she meant something, and instantly
254:407,24['  ]| guessed what she meant.  But her reply concealed her
254:407,25['  ]| guess; he heart beat faster and she wished to$9$ gain a
254:407,26['  ]| moment.  
254:407,26[A  ]| "Ah yes ~~ the House of Lords and all that$6#2$."
254:407,27[G  ]| "He is not thinking of the Lords; he is thinking
254:407,28[G  ]| of the ladies.  At least he is thinking of one of them;
254:407,29[G  ]| he told Ralph he is engaged to$9$ be married."
254:407,30[A  ]| "Ah, to$9$ be married!"  
254:407,30['  ]| Isabel mildly exclaimed.
254:407,31[G  ]| "Unless he breaks it off.  He seemed to$9$ think
254:407,32[G  ]| Ralph would like$1$ to$9$ know.  Poor Ralph can not go to$4$
254:408,01[G  ]| the wedding, though I believe it is to$9$ take place very
254:408,02[G  ]| soon."
254:408,03[A  ]| "And who$6#2$ is the young lady?"
254:408,04[G  ]| "A member of the aristocracy; Lady*Flora, Lady*Felicia 
254:408,05[G  ]| ~~ something of that$6#2$ sort."
254:408,06[A  ]| "I am very glad," 
254:408,06['  ]| Isabel said.  
254:408,06[A  ]| "It must be a sudden
254:408,07[A  ]| decision."
254:408,08[G  ]| "Sudden enough, I believe; a courtship of three
254:408,09[G  ]| weeks.  It has only just been made public."
254:408,10[A  ]| "I am very glad," 
254:408,10['  ]| Isabel repeated with a larger
254:408,11['  ]| emphasis.  She knew her aunt was watching her ~~
254:408,12['  ]| looking for$4$ the signs of some imputed soreness, and
254:408,13['  ]| the desire to$9$ prevent her companion from seeing anything
254:408,14['  ]| of this kind enabled her to$9$ speak in$4$ the tone
254:408,15['  ]| of quick satisfaction, the tone almost of relief.  Mrs%*Touchett
254:408,16['  ]| of course followed the tradition that$3$ ladies,
254:408,17['  ]| even married ones, regard the marriage of their old
254:408,18['  ]| lovers as an offence to$4$ themselves.  Isabel's first care
254:408,19['  ]| therefore was to$9$ show that$3$ however that$6#2$ might be in$4$
254:408,20['  ]| general she was not offended now.  But meanwhile,
254:408,21['  ]| as I say, her heart beat faster; and if she sat for$4$ some
254:408,22['  ]| moments, thoughtful ~~ she presently forgot Mrs%*Touchett's
254:408,23['  ]| observation ~~ it was not because she had
254:408,24['  ]| lost an admirer.  Her imagination had traversed half
254:408,25['  ]| Europe; it halted, panting, and even trembling a
254:408,26['  ]| little, in$4$ the city of Rome.  She figured herself announcing
254:408,27['  ]| to$4$ her husband that$3$ Lord*Warburton was
254:408,28['  ]| to$9$ lead a bride to$4$ the altar, and was of course not
254:408,29['  ]| aware how extremely wan she must have looked
254:408,30['  ]| while she made this intellectual effort.  But at last
254:408,31['  ]| she collected herself and said to$4$ her aunt:
254:408,31[A  ]| "He was
254:408,32[A  ]| sure to$9$ do it some time or other."
254:409,01['  ]| Mrs%*Touchett was silent; then she gave a sharp
254:409,02['  ]| little shake of the head.  
254:409,02[G  ]| "Ah, my dear, you are beyond
254:409,03[G  ]| me!"  
254:409,03['  ]| she cried suddenly.  They went on$5$ with their
254:409,04['  ]| luncheon in$4$ silence; Isabel felt as if she had heard
254:409,05['  ]| of Lord*Warburton's death.  
254:409,05@a   | She had known him
254:409,06@a   | only as a suitor, and now that$6#2$ was all over.  He was
254:409,07@a   | dead for$4$ poor Pansy; by$4$ Pansy he might have lived.
254:409,08['  ]| A servant had been hovering about; at last Mrs%*Touchett
254:409,09['  ]| requested him to$9$ leave them alone.  She
254:409,10['  ]| had finished her meal; she sat with her hands folded
254:409,11['  ]| on$4$ the edge of the table.  
254:409,11[G  ]| "I should like$1$ to$9$ ask you
254:409,12[G  ]| three questions," 
254:409,12['  ]| she observed when the servant had
254:409,13['  ]| gone.
254:409,14[A  ]| "Three are a great many."
254:409,15[G  ]| "I can not do with less; I have been thinking.  They are
254:409,16[G  ]| all very good ones."
254:409,17[A  ]| "That$6#2$ is what I am afraid of.  The best questions
254:409,18[A  ]| are the worst," 
254:409,18['  ]| Isabel answered.  Mrs%*Touchett had
254:409,19['  ]| pushed back her chair, and as her niece left the
254:409,20['  ]| table and walked, rather consciously, to$4$ one of the
254:409,21['  ]| deep windows, she felt herself followed by$4$ her eyes.
254:409,22[G  ]| "Have you ever been sorry you did not marry Lord*Warburton?"
254:409,23['  ]| Mrs%*Touchett enquired.
254:409,24['  ]| Isabel shook her head slowly, but not heavily.
254:409,25[A  ]| "No$7$, dear aunt."
254:409,26[G  ]| "Good, I ought to$9$ tell you that$3$ I propose to$9$ believe
254:409,27[G  ]| what you say."
254:409,28[A  ]| "Your believing me is an immense temptation,"
254:409,29['  ]| she declared, smiling still.
254:409,30[G  ]| "A temptation to$9$ lie?  I do not recommend you to$9$
254:409,31[G  ]| do that$6#2$, for$3$ when I am misinformed I am as dangerous
254:409,32[G  ]| as a poisoned rat.  I do not mean to$9$ crow over you."
254:410,01[A  ]| "It is my husband who$6#1$ does not get on$5$ with me,"
254:410,02['  ]| said Isabel.
254:410,03[G  ]| "I could have told him he would not.  I do not call
254:410,04[G  ]| that$6#2$ crowing over \you\," 
254:410,04['  ]| Mrs*Touchett added.  
254:410,04[G  ]| "Do
254:410,05[G  ]| you still like$1$ Serena*Merle?"  
254:410,05['  ]| she went on$5$.
254:410,06[A  ]| "Not as I once did.  But it does not matter, for$3$ she is
254:410,07[A  ]| going to$4$ America."
254:410,08[G  ]| "To$4$ America?  She must have done something
254:410,09[G  ]| very bad."
254:410,10[A  ]| "Yes ~~ very bad."
254:410,11[G  ]| "May I ask what it is?"
254:410,12[A  ]| "She made a convenience of me."
254:410,13[G  ]| "Ah," 
254:410,13['  ]| cried Mrs%*Touchett, 
254:410,13[G  ]| "so$5#2$ she did of me!
254:410,14[G  ]| She does of every*one."
254:410,15[A  ]| "She will$1$ make a convenience of America," 
254:410,15['  ]| said
254:410,16['  ]| Isabel, smiling again and glad that$3$ her aunt's questions
254:410,17['  ]| were over.
254:410,18['  ]| It was not till the evening that$3$ she was able to$9$ see
254:410,19['  ]| Ralph.  He had been dozing all day; at least he had
254:410,20['  ]| been lying unconscious.  The doctor was there, but
254:410,21['  ]| after a while went away ~~ the local doctor, who$6#1$ had
254:410,22['  ]| attended his father and whom Ralph liked.  He
254:410,23['  ]| came three or four times a day; he was deeply interested
254:410,24['  ]| in$4$ his patient.  Ralph had had Sir*Matthew*Hope,
254:410,25['  ]| but he had got tired of this celebrated man, to$4$
254:410,26['  ]| whom he had asked his mother 
254:410,26@b   | to$9$ send word he was
254:410,27@b   | now dead and was therefore without further need of
254:410,28@b   | medical advice.  
254:410,28['  ]| Mrs%*Touchett had simply written
254:410,29['  ]| to$4$ Sir*Matthew that$3$ 
254:410,29@g   | her son disliked him.  
254:410,29['  ]| On$4$ the
254:410,30['  ]| day of Isabel's arrival Ralph gave no$2$ sign, as I have
254:410,31['  ]| related, for$4$ many hours; but toward evening he
254:410,32['  ]| raised himself and said 
254:410,32@b   | he knew that$3$ she had come.
254:411,01['  ]| How he knew was not apparent, inasmuch as for$4$
254:411,02['  ]| fear of exciting him no*one had offered the information.
254:411,03['  ]| Isabel came in$5$ and sat by$4$ his bed in$4$ the dim
254:411,04['  ]| light; there was only a shaded candle in$4$ a corner
254:411,05['  ]| of the room.  She told the nurse 
254:411,05@a   | she might go ~~ she
254:411,06@a   | herself would sit with him for$4$ the rest of the evening.
254:411,07['  ]| He had opened his eyes and recognised her, and had
254:411,08['  ]| moved his hand, which$6#1$ lay helpless beside him, so$3$
254:411,09['  ]| that$3$ she might take it.  But he was unable to$9$ speak;
254:411,10['  ]| he closed his eyes again and remained perfectly still,
254:411,11['  ]| only keeping her hand in$4$ his own.  She sat with him
254:411,12['  ]| a long time ~~ till the nurse came back; but he gave
254:411,13['  ]| no$2$ further sign.  He might have passed away while
254:411,14['  ]| she looked at him; he was already the figure and
254:411,15['  ]| pattern of death.  She had thought him far gone in$4$
254:411,16['  ]| Rome, and this was worse; there was but one change
254:411,17['  ]| possible now.  There was a strange tranquillity in$4$ his
254:411,18['  ]| face; it was as still as the lid of a box.  With this he
254:411,19['  ]| was a mere lattice of bones; when he opened his
254:411,20['  ]| eyes to$9$ greet her it was as if she were looking into
254:411,21['  ]| immeasurable space.  It was not till midnight that$3$
254:411,22['  ]| the nurse came back; but the hours, to$4$ Isabel, had
254:411,23['  ]| not seemed long; it was exactly what she had come
254:411,24['  ]| for$4$.  If she had come simply to$9$ wait she found ample
254:411,25['  ]| occasion, for$3$ he lay three days in$4$ a kind of grateful
254:411,26['  ]| silence.  He recognised her and at moments seemed
254:411,27['  ]| to$9$ wish to$9$ speak; but he found no$2$ voice.  Then he
254:411,28['  ]| closed his eyes again, as if he too were waiting for$4$
254:411,29['  ]| something ~~ for$4$ something that$6#1$ certainly would
254:411,30['  ]| come.  He was so$5#1$ absolutely quiet that$3$ it seemed to$4$
254:411,31['  ]| her what was coming had already arrived; and yet
254:411,32['  ]| she never lost the sense that$3$ they were still together.
254:412,01['  ]| But they were not always together; there were other
254:412,02['  ]| hours that$6#1$ she passed in$4$ wandering through the empty
254:412,03['  ]| house and listening for$4$ a voice that$6#1$ was not poor
254:412,04['  ]| Ralph's.  She had a constant fear; she thought it
254:412,05['  ]| possible her husband would write to$4$ her.  But he
254:412,06['  ]| remained silent, and she only got a letter from Florence
254:412,07['  ]| and from the Countess*Gemini.  Ralph, however,
254:412,08['  ]| spoke at last ~~ on$4$ the evening of the third day.
254:412,09[B  ]| "I feel better to-night," 
254:412,09['  ]| he murmured, abruptly,
254:412,10['  ]| in$4$ the soundless dimness of her vigil; 
254:412,10[B  ]| "I think I can
254:412,11[B  ]| say something."  
254:412,11['  ]| She sank upon$4$ her knees beside his
254:412,12['  ]| pillow; took his thin hand in$4$ her own; begged him
254:412,13['  ]| not to$9$ make an effort ~~ not to$9$ tire himself.  His face
254:412,14['  ]| was of necessity serious ~~ it was incapable of the
254:412,15['  ]| muscular play of a smile; but its owner apparently
254:412,16['  ]| had not lost a perception of incongruities.  
254:412,16[B  ]| "What
254:412,17[B  ]| does it matter if I am tired when I have all eternity to$9$
254:412,18[B  ]| rest?  There is no$2$ harm in$4$ making an effort when it is
254:412,19[B  ]| the very last of all.  Do not people always feel better
254:412,20[B  ]| just before the end?  I have often heard of that$6#2$; it is
254:412,21[B  ]| what I was waiting for$4$.  Ever since you have been here
254:412,22[B  ]| I thought it would come.  I tried two or three times;
254:412,23[B  ]| I was afraid you would get tired of sitting there."  
254:412,23['  ]| He
254:412,24['  ]| spoke slowly, with painful breaks and long pauses;
254:412,25['  ]| his voice seemed to$9$ come from a distance.  When he
254:412,26['  ]| ceased he lay with his face turned to$4$ Isabel and his
254:412,27['  ]| large unwinking eyes open into her own.  
254:412,27[B  ]| "It was
254:412,28[B  ]| very good of you to$9$ come," 
254:412,28['  ]| he went on$5$.  
254:412,28[B  ]| "I thought
254:412,29[B  ]| you would; but I was not sure."
254:412,30[A  ]| "I was not sure either till I came," 
254:412,30['  ]| said Isabel.
254:412,31[B  ]| "You have been like$4$ an angel beside my bed.  You
254:412,32[B  ]| know they talk about the angel of death.  It is the
254:413,01[B  ]| most beautiful of all.  You have been like$4$ that$6#2$; as if
254:413,02[B  ]| you were waiting for$4$ me."
254:413,03[A  ]| "I was not waiting for$4$ your death; I was waiting
254:413,04[A  ]| for$4$ ~~ for$4$ this.  This is not death, dear Ralph."
254:413,05[B  ]| "Not for$4$ you ~~ no$7$.  There is nothing makes us
254:413,06[B  ]| feel so$5#1$ much alive as to$9$ see others die.  That$6#2$ is the
254:413,07[B  ]| sensation of life ~~ the sense that$3$ we remain.  I have had
254:413,08[B  ]| it ~~ even I.  But now I am of no$2$ use but to$9$ give it to$4$
254:413,09[B  ]| others.  With me it is all over."  
254:413,09['  ]| And then he paused.
254:413,10['  ]| Isabel bowed her head further, till it rested on$4$ the
254:413,11['  ]| two hands that$6#1$ were clasped upon$4$ his own.  She
254:413,12['  ]| could not see him now; but his far-away voice was
254:413,13['  ]| close to$4$ her ear.  
254:413,13[B  ]| "Isabel," 
254:413,13[B  ]| he went on$5$ suddenly, 
254:413,13[B  ]| "I
254:413,14[B  ]| wish it were over for$4$ you."  
254:413,14['  ]| She answered nothing;
254:413,15['  ]| she had burst into sobs; she remained so$5#2$, with her
254:413,16['  ]| buried face.  He lay silent, listening to$4$ her sobs; at
254:413,17['  ]| last he gave a long groan.  
254:413,17[B  ]| "Ah, what is it you have
254:413,18[B  ]| done for$4$ me?"
254:413,19[A  ]| "What is it you did for$4$ me?"  
254:413,19['  ]| she cried, her now
254:413,20['  ]| extreme agitation half smothered by$4$ her attitude.
254:413,21['  ]| She had lost all her shame, all wish to$9$ hide things.
254:413,22@a   | Now he must know; she wished him to$9$ know, for$3$
254:413,23@a   | it brought them supremely together, and he was
254:413,24@a   | beyond the reach of pain.  
254:413,24[A  ]| "You did something
254:413,25[A  ]| once ~~ you know it.  O Ralph, you have been everything!
254:413,26[A  ]| What have I done for$4$ you ~~ what can I do
254:413,27[A  ]| to-day?  I would die if you could live.  But I do not
254:413,28[A  ]| wish you to$9$ live; I would die myself, not to$9$ lose
254:413,29[A  ]| you."  
254:413,29['  ]| Her voice was as broken as his own and full
254:413,30['  ]| of tears and anguish.
254:413,31[B  ]| "You will$1$ not lose me ~~ you will$1$ keep me.  Keep
254:413,32[B  ]| me in$4$ your heart; I shall be nearer to$4$ you than I have
254:414,01[B  ]| ever been.  Dear Isabel, life is better; for$3$ in$4$ life
254:414,02[B  ]| there is love.  Death is good ~~ but there is no$2$ love."
254:414,03[A  ]| "I never thanked you ~~ I never spoke ~~ I never
254:414,04[A  ]| was what I should be!"  
254:414,04['  ]| Isabel went on$5$.  She felt a
254:414,05['  ]| passionate need to$9$ cry out and accuse herself, to$9$ let
254:414,06['  ]| her sorrow possess her.  All her troubles, for$4$ the
254:414,07['  ]| moment, became single and melted together into
254:414,08['  ]| this present pain.  
254:414,08[A  ]| "What must you have thought of
254:414,09[A  ]| me?  Yet how could I know?  I never knew, and I
254:414,10[A  ]| only know to-day because there are people less stupid
254:414,11[A  ]| than I."
254:414,12[B  ]| "Do not mind people," 
254:414,12['  ]| said Ralph.  
254:414,12[B  ]| "I think I am
254:414,13[B  ]| glad to$9$ leave people."
254:414,14['  ]| She raised her head and her clasped hands; she
254:414,15['  ]| seemed for$4$ a moment to$9$ pray to$4$ him.  
254:414,15[A  ]| "Is it true ~~ is
254:414,16[A  ]| it true?"  
254:414,16['  ]| she asked.
254:414,17[B  ]| "True that$3$ you have been stupid?  Oh no$7$," 
254:414,17['  ]| said
254:414,18['  ]| Ralph with a sensible intention of wit.
254:414,19[A  ]| "That$3$ you made me rich ~~ that$3$ all I have is
254:414,20[A  ]| yours?"
254:414,21['  ]| He turned away his head, and for$4$ some time said
254:414,22['  ]| nothing.  Then at last:
254:414,22[B  ]| "Ah, do not speak of that$6#2$ ~~
254:414,23[B  ]| that$6#2$ was not happy."  
254:414,23['  ]| Slowly he moved his face
254:414,24['  ]| toward her again, and they once more saw each other.
254:414,25[B  ]| "But for$4$ that$6#2$ ~~ but for$4$ that$6#2$ ~~ !"  
254:414,25['  ]| And he paused.
254:414,26[B  ]| "I believe I ruined you," 
254:414,26['  ]| he wailed.
254:414,27['  ]| She was full of the sense that$3$ he was beyond the
254:414,28['  ]| reach of pain; 
254:414,28@a   | he seemed already so$5#1$ little of this
254:414,29@a   | world.  
254:414,29['  ]| But even if she had not had it she would still
254:414,30['  ]| have spoken, for$3$ nothing mattered now but the only
254:414,31['  ]| knowledge that$6#1$ was not pure anguish ~~ the knowledge
254:414,32['  ]| that$3$ they were looking at the truth together.
254:415,01[A  ]| "He married me for$4$ the money," 
254:415,01['  ]| she said.  She wished
254:415,02@a   | to$9$ say everything; she was afraid he might die before
254:415,03@a   | she had done so$5#2$.
254:415,04['  ]| He gazed at her a little, and for$4$ the first time his
254:415,05['  ]| fixed eyes lowered their lids.  But he raised them in$4$
254:415,06['  ]| a moment, and then, 
254:415,06[B  ]| "He was greatly in$4$ love with
254:415,07[B  ]| you," 
254:415,07['  ]| he answered.
254:415,08[A  ]| "Yes, he was in$4$ love with me.  But he would not
254:415,09[A  ]| have married me if I had been poor.  I do not hurt you
254:415,10[A  ]| in$4$ saying that$6#2$.  How can I?  I only want you to$9$ understand.
254:415,11[A  ]| I always tried to$9$ keep you from understanding;
254:415,12[A  ]| but that$6#2$ is all over."
254:415,13[B  ]| "I always understood," 
254:415,13['  ]| said Ralph.
254:415,14[A  ]| "I thought you did, and I did not like$1$ it.  But now
254:415,15[A  ]| I like$1$ it."
254:415,16[B  ]| "You do not hurt me ~~ you make me very happy."
254:415,17['  ]| And as Ralph said this there was an extraordinary
254:415,18['  ]| gladness in$4$ his voice.  She bent her head again, and
254:415,19['  ]| pressed her lips to$4$ the back of his hand.  
254:415,19[B  ]| "I always
254:415,20[B  ]| understood," 
254:415,20['  ]| he continued, 
254:415,20[B  ]| "though it was so$5#1$ strange
254:415,21[B  ]| ~~ so$5#1$ pitiful.  You wanted to$9$ look at life for$4$ yourself
254:415,22[B  ]| ~~ but you were not allowed; you were punished
254:415,23[B  ]| for$4$ your wish.  You were ground in$4$ the very mill of
254:415,24[B  ]| the conventional!"
254:415,25[A  ]| "Oh yes, I have been punished," 
254:415,25['  ]| Isabel sobbed.
254:415,26['  ]| He listened to$4$ her a little, and then continued:
254:415,27[B  ]| "Was he very bad about your coming?"
254:415,28[A  ]| "He made it very hard for$4$ me.  But I do not care."
254:415,29[B  ]| "It is all over then between you?"
254:415,30[A  ]| "Oh no$7$; I do not think anything is over."
254:415,31[B  ]| "Are you going back to$4$ him?"  
254:415,31['  ]| Ralph gasped.
254:415,32[A  ]| "I do not know ~~ I can not tell.  I shall stay here as
254:416,01[A  ]| long as I may.  I do not want to$9$ think ~~ I need not
254:416,02[A  ]| think.  I do not care for$4$ anything but you, and that$6#2$ is
254:416,03[A  ]| enough for$4$ the present.  It will$1$ last a little yet.  Here
254:416,04[A  ]| on$4$ my knees, with you dying in$4$ my arms, I am happier
254:416,05[A  ]| than I have been for$4$ a long time.  And I want you
254:416,06[A  ]| to$9$ be happy ~~ not to$9$ think of anything sad; only to$9$
254:416,07[A  ]| feel that$3$ I am near you and I love you.  Why should
254:416,08[A  ]| there be pain?  In$4$ such hours as this what have
254:416,09[A  ]| we to$9$ do with pain?  That$6#2$ is not the deepest thing;
254:416,10[A  ]| there is something deeper."
254:416,11['  ]| Ralph evidently found from moment to$4$ moment
254:416,12['  ]| greater difficulty in$4$ speaking; he had to$9$ wait longer
254:416,13['  ]| to$9$ collect himself.  At first he appeared to$9$ make no$2$
254:416,14['  ]| response to$4$ these last words; he let a long time elapse.
254:416,15['  ]| Then he murmured simply:
254:416,15[B  ]| "You must stay here."
254:416,16[A  ]| "I should like$1$ to$9$ stay ~~ as long as seems right."
254:416,17[B  ]| "As seems right ~~ as seems right?"  
254:416,17['  ]| He repeated
254:416,18['  ]| her words.  
254:416,18[B  ]| "Yes, you think a great deal about that$6#2$."
254:416,19[A  ]| "Of course one must.  You are very tired," 
254:416,19['  ]| said
254:416,20['  ]| Isabel.
254:416,21[B  ]| "I am very tired.  You said just now that$3$ pain is
254:416,22[B  ]| not the deepest thing.  No$7$ ~~ no$7$.  But it is very deep.
254:416,23[B  ]| If I could stay ~~ "
254:416,24[A  ]| "For$4$ me you will$1$ always be here," 
254:416,24['  ]| she softly interrupted.
254:416,25['  ]| It was easy to$9$ interrupt him.
254:416,26['  ]| But he went on$5$, after a moment:
254:416,26[B  ]| "It passes, after
254:416,27[B  ]| all; it is passing now.  But love remains.  I do not
254:416,28[B  ]| know why we should suffer so$5#1$ much.  Perhaps I shall
254:416,29[B  ]| find out.  There are many things in$4$ life.  You are very
254:416,30[B  ]| young."
254:416,31[A  ]| "I feel very old," 
254:416,31['  ]| said Isabel.
254:416,32[B  ]| "You will$1$ grow young again.  That$6#2$ is how I see you.
254:417,01[B  ]| I do not believe ~~ I do not believe ~~ " 
254:417,01['  ]| But he stopped
254:417,02['  ]| again; his strength failed him.
254:417,03['  ]| She begged him to$9$ be quiet now.  
254:417,03[A  ]| "We need not
254:417,04[A  ]| speak to$9$ understand each other," 
254:417,04['  ]| she said.
254:417,05[B  ]| "I do not believe that$3$ such a generous mistake as
254:417,06[B  ]| yours can hurt you for$4$ more than a little."
254:417,07[A  ]| "Oh Ralph, I am very happy now," 
254:417,07['  ]| she cried
254:417,08['  ]| through her tears.
254:417,09[B  ]| "And remember this," 
254:417,09['  ]| he continued, 
254:417,09[B  ]| "that$3$ if
254:417,10[B  ]| you have been hated you have also been loved.  Ah but,
254:417,11[B  ]| Isabel ~~ \adored!\"  
254:417,11['  ]| he just audibly and lingeringly
254:417,12['  ]| breathed.
254:417,13[A  ]| "Oh my brother!"  
254:417,13['  ]| she cried with a movement of
254:417,14['  ]| still deeper prostration.
255:418,01['  ]| He had told her, the first evening she ever spent at
255:418,02['  ]| Gardencourt, that$3$ 
255:418,02@b   | if she should live to$9$ suffer enough
255:418,03@b   | she might some day see the ghost with which$6#1$ the old
255:418,04@b   | house was duly provided.  
255:418,04['  ]| She apparently had fulfilled
255:418,05['  ]| the necessary condition; for$3$ the next morning,
255:418,06['  ]| in$4$ the cold, faint dawn, she knew that$3$ a spirit was
255:418,07['  ]| standing by$4$ her bed.  She had lain down without
255:418,08['  ]| undressing, it being her belief that$3$ Ralph would not
255:418,09['  ]| outlast the night.  She had no$2$ inclination to$9$ sleep;
255:418,10['  ]| she was waiting, and such waiting was wakeful.  But
255:418,11['  ]| she closed her eyes; she believed that$3$ as the night
255:418,12['  ]| wore on$5$ she should hear a knock at her door.  She
255:418,13['  ]| heard no$2$ knock, but at the time the darkness began
255:418,14['  ]| vaguely to$9$ grow grey she started up$5$ from her pillow
255:418,15['  ]| as abruptly as if she had received a summons.  It
255:418,16['  ]| seemed to$4$ her for$4$ an instant that$3$ he was standing
255:418,17['  ]| there ~~ a vague, hovering figure in$4$ the vagueness
255:418,18['  ]| of the room.  She stared a moment; she saw his
255:418,19['  ]| white face ~~ his kind eyes; then she saw there was
255:418,20['  ]| nothing.  She was not afraid; she was only sure.
255:418,21['  ]| She quitted the place and in$4$ her certainty passed
255:418,22['  ]| through dark corridors and down a flight of oaken
255:418,23['  ]| steps that$6#1$ shone in$4$ the vague light of a hall-window.
255:418,24['  ]| Outside Ralph's door she stopped a moment, listening,
255:418,25['  ]| but she seemed to$9$ hear only the hush that$6#1$ filled it.
255:418,26['  ]| She opened the door with a hand as gentle as if she
255:419,01['  ]| were lifting a veil from the face of the dead, and saw
255:419,02['  ]| Mrs%*Touchett sitting motionless and upright beside
255:419,03['  ]| the couch of her son, with one of his hands in$4$ her
255:419,04['  ]| own.  The doctor was on$4$ the other side, with poor
255:419,05['  ]| Ralph's further wrist resting in$4$ his professional fingers.
255:419,06['  ]| The two nurses were at the foot between them.
255:419,07['  ]| Mrs%*Touchett took no$2$ notice of Isabel, but the
255:419,08['  ]| doctor looked at her very hard; then he gently placed
255:419,09['  ]| Ralph's hand in$4$ a proper position, close beside him.
255:419,10['  ]| The nurse looked at her very hard too, and no*one
255:419,11['  ]| said a word; but Isabel only looked at what she had
255:419,12['  ]| come to$9$ see.  It was fairer than Ralph had ever been
255:419,13['  ]| in$4$ life, and there was a strange resemblance to$4$ the face
255:419,14['  ]| of his father, which$6#1$, six years before, she had seen
255:419,15['  ]| lying on$4$ the same pillow.  She went to$4$ her aunt and
255:419,16['  ]| put her arm around her; and Mrs%*Touchett, who$6#1$ as
255:419,17['  ]| a general thing neither invited nor enjoyed caresses,
255:419,18['  ]| submitted for$4$ a moment to$4$ this one, rising, as might
255:419,19['  ]| be, to$9$ take it.  But she was stiff and dry-eyed; her
255:419,20['  ]| acute white face was terrible.
255:419,21[A  ]| "Dear Aunt Lydia," 
255:419,21['  ]| Isabel murmured.
255:419,22[G  ]| "Go and thank God you have no$2$ child," 
255:419,22['  ]| said Mrs%*Touchett,
255:419,23['  ]| disengaging herself.
255:419,24['  ]| Three days after this a considerable number of
255:419,25['  ]| people found time, at the height of the London
255:419,26['  ]| "season," to$9$ take a morning train down to$4$ a quiet
255:419,27['  ]| station in$4$ Berkshire and spend half an hour in$4$ a
255:419,28['  ]| small grey church which$6#1$ stood within an easy walk.
255:419,29['  ]| It was in$4$ the green burial-place of this edifice that$3$
255:419,30['  ]| Mrs%*Touchett consigned her son to$4$ earth.  She stood
255:419,31['  ]| herself at the edge of the grave, and Isabel stood
255:419,32['  ]| beside her; the sexton himself had not a more practical
255:420,01['  ]| interest in$4$ the scene than Mrs%*Touchett.  It
255:420,02['  ]| was a solemn occasion, but neither a harsh nor a
255:420,03['  ]| heavy one; there was a certain geniality in$4$ the appearance
255:420,04['  ]| of things.  The weather had changed to$4$ fair; the
255:420,05['  ]| day, one of the last of the treacherous May-time, was
255:420,06['  ]| warm and windless, and the air had the brightness
255:420,07['  ]| of the hawthorn and the blackbird.  
255:420,07@x   | If it was sad to$9$
255:420,08@x   | think of poor Touchett, it was not too sad, since
255:420,09@x   | death, for$4$ him, had had no$2$ violence.  He had been
255:420,10@x   | dying so$5#1$ long; he was so$5#1$ ready; everything had been
255:420,11@x   | so$5#1$ expected and prepared.  
255:420,11['  ]| There were tears in$4$
255:420,12['  ]| Isabel's eyes, but they were not tears that$6#1$ blinded.
255:420,13['  ]| She looked through them at the beauty of the day,
255:420,14['  ]| the splendour of nature, the sweetness of the old
255:420,15['  ]| English churchyard, the bowed heads of good friends.
255:420,16['  ]| Lord*Warburton was there, and a group of gentlemen
255:420,17['  ]| all unknown to$4$ her, several of whom, as she
255:420,18['  ]| afterwards learned, were connected with the bank;
255:420,19['  ]| and there were others whom she knew.  Miss*Stackpole
255:420,20['  ]| was among the first, with honest Mr%*Bantling
255:420,21['  ]| beside her; and Caspar*Goodwood, lifting his head
255:420,22['  ]| higher than the rest ~~ bowing it rather less.  During
255:420,23['  ]| much of the time Isabel was conscious of Mr%*Goodwood's
255:420,24['  ]| gaze; he looked at her somewhat harder than
255:420,25['  ]| he usually looked in$4$ public, while the others had
255:420,26['  ]| fixed their eyes upon$4$ the churchyard turf.  But she
255:420,27['  ]| never let him see that$3$ she saw him; she thought of
255:420,28['  ]| him only to$9$ wonder that$3$ he was still in$4$ England.  
255:420,28@a   | She
255:420,29@a   | found she had taken for$4$ granted that$3$ after accompanying
255:420,30@a   | Ralph to$4$ Gardencourt he had gone away;
255:420,31@a   | she remembered how little it was a country that$6#1$
255:420,32@a   | pleased him.  He was there, however, very distinctly
255:421,01@a   | there; and something in$4$ his attitude seemed to$9$ say
255:421,02@a   | that$3$ he was there with a complex intention.  
255:421,02['  ]| She
255:421,03['  ]| would not meet his eyes, though there was doubtless
255:421,04['  ]| sympathy in$4$ them; he made her rather uneasy. With
255:421,05['  ]| the dispersal of the little group he disappeared, and
255:421,06['  ]| the only person who$6#1$ came to$9$ speak to$4$ her ~~ though
255:421,07['  ]| several spoke to$4$ Mrs%*Touchett ~~ was Henrietta*Stackpole.
255:421,08['  ]| Henrietta had been crying.
255:421,09['  ]| Ralph had said to$4$ Isabel that$3$ 
255:421,09@b   | he hoped she would
255:421,10@b   | remain at Gardencourt, 
255:421,10['  ]| and she made no$2$ immediate
255:421,11['  ]| motion to$9$ leave the place.  She said to$4$ herself that$3$ 
255:421,11@a   | it
255:421,12@a   | was but common charity to$9$ stay a little with her
255:421,13@a   | aunt.  
255:421,13['  ]| It was fortunate she had so$5#1$ good a formula;
255:421,14['  ]| otherwise she might have been greatly in$4$ want of one.
255:421,15@a   | Her errand was over; she had done what she had
255:421,16@a   | left her husband to$9$ do.  She had a husband in$4$ a
255:421,17@a   | foreign city, counting the hours of her absence; in$4$
255:421,18@a   | such a case one needed an excellent motive.  He was
255:421,19@a   | not one of the best husbands, but that$6#2$ did not alter
255:421,20@a   | the case.  Certain obligations were involved in$4$ the
255:421,21@a   | very fact of marriage, and were quite independent
255:421,22@a   | of the quantity of enjoyment extracted from it.
255:421,23['  ]| Isabel thought of her husband as little as might be;
255:421,24['  ]| but now that$3$ she was at a distance, beyond its spell,
255:421,25['  ]| she thought with a kind of spiritual shudder of
255:421,26['  ]| Rome.  There was a penetrating chill in$4$ the image,
255:421,27['  ]| and she drew back into the deepest shade of Gardencourt.
255:421,28['  ]| She lived from day to$4$ day, postponing, closing
255:421,29['  ]| her eyes, trying not to$9$ think.  She knew 
255:421,29@a   | she must
255:421,30@a   | decide, but she decided nothing; her coming itself
255:421,31@a   | had not been a decision.  On$4$ that$6#2$ occasion she had
255:421,32@a   | simply started.  Osmond gave no$2$ sound and now
255:422,01@a   | evidently would give none; he would leave it all to$4$
255:422,02@a   | her.  From Pansy she heard nothing, but that$6#2$ was
255:422,03@a   | very simple: her father had told her not to$9$ write.
255:422,04['  ]| Mrs%*Touchett accepted Isabel's company, but
255:422,05['  ]| offered her no$2$ assistance; she appeared to$9$ be absorbed
255:422,06['  ]| in$4$ considering, without enthusiasm but with
255:422,07['  ]| perfect lucidity, the new conveniences of her own
255:422,08['  ]| situation.  Mrs%*Touchett was not an optimist, but
255:422,09['  ]| even from painful occurrences she managed to$9$
255:422,10['  ]| extract a certain utility.  This consisted in$4$ the reflexion
255:422,11['  ]| that$3$, after all, 
255:422,11@g   | such things happened to$4$ other
255:422,12@a   | people and not to$4$ herself.  Death was disagreeable,
255:422,13@a   | but in$4$ this case it was her son's death, not her own;
255:422,14['  ]| she had never flattered herself that$3$ her own would be
255:422,15['  ]| disagreeable to$4$ any*one but Mrs%*Touchett.  
255:422,15@g   | She was
255:422,16@g   | better off than poor Ralph, who$6#1$ had left all the
255:422,17@g   | commodities of life behind him, and indeed all the
255:422,18@g   | security; since the worst of dying was, 
255:422,18['  ]| to$4$ Mrs%*Touchett's
255:422,19['  ]| mind, 
255:422,19@g   | that$3$ it exposed one to$9$ be taken
255:422,20@g   | advantage of.  For$4$ herself she was on$4$ the spot; there
255:422,21@g   | was nothing so$5#1$ good as that$6#2$.  
255:422,21['  ]| She made known to$4$
255:422,22['  ]| Isabel very punctually ~~ it was the evening her son
255:422,23['  ]| was buried ~~ several of Ralph's testamentary arrangements.
255:422,24@g   | He had told her everything, had consulted
255:422,25@g   | her about everything.  He left her no$2$ money; of
255:422,26@g   | course she had no$2$ need of money.  He left her the
255:422,27@g   | furniture of Gardencourt, exclusive of the pictures
255:422,28@g   | and books and the use of the place for$4$ a year; after
255:422,29@g   | which$6#1$ it was to$9$ be sold.  The money produced by$4$ the
255:422,30@g   | sale was to$9$ constitute an endowment for$4$ a hospital
255:422,31@g   | for$4$ poor persons suffering from the malady of which$6#1$
255:422,32@g   | he died; and of this portion of the will$0$ Lord*Warburton
255:423,01@g   | was appointed executor.  The rest of his
255:423,02@g   | property, which$6#1$ was to$9$ be withdrawn from the bank,
255:423,03@g   | was disposed of in$4$ various bequests, several of them
255:423,04@g   | to$4$ those cousins in$4$ Vermont to$4$ whom his father had
255:423,05@g   | already been so$5#1$ bountiful.  Then there were a number
255:423,06@g   | of small legacies.
255:423,07[G  ]| "Some of them are extremely peculiar," 
255:423,07['  ]| said Mrs%*Touchett;
255:423,08[G  ]| "he had left considerable sums to$4$ persons
255:423,09[G  ]| I never heard of.  He gave me a list, and I asked then
255:423,10[G  ]| who$6#1$ some of them were, and he told me they were
255:423,11[G  ]| people who$6#1$ at various times had seemed to$9$ like$1$ him.
255:423,12[G  ]| Apparently he thought you did not like$1$ him, for$3$ he
255:423,13[G  ]| has not left you a penny.  It was his opinion that$3$ you
255:423,14[G  ]| had been handsomely treated by$4$ his father, which$6#1$
255:423,15[G  ]| I am bound to$9$ say I think you were ~~ though I do not
255:423,16[G  ]| mean that$3$ I ever heard him complain of it.  The
255:423,17[G  ]| pictures are to$9$ be dispersed; he has distributed
255:423,18[G  ]| tham about, one by$4$ one, as little keepsakes.  The
255:423,19[G  ]| most valuable of the collection goes to$4$ Lord*Warburton.
255:423,20[G  ]| And what do you think he has done with
255:423,21[G  ]| his library?  It sounds like$4$ a practical joke.  He has
255:423,22[G  ]| left it to$4$ your friend Miss*Stackpole ~~ 
255:423,22@b   | ""in$4$ recognition
255:423,23@b   | of her services to$4$ literature.""  
255:423,23[G  ]| Does he mean her
255:423,24[G  ]| following him up$5$ from Rome?  Was that$6#2$ a service to$4$
255:423,25[G  ]| literature?  It contains a great many rare and valuable
255:423,26[G  ]| books, and as she can not carry it about the world
255:423,27[G  ]| in$4$ her trunk he recommends her to$9$ sell it at auction.
255:423,28[G  ]| She will$1$ sell it of course at Christie's, and
255:423,29[G  ]| with the proceeds she will$1$ set up$5$ a newspaper.  Will$1$
255:423,30[G  ]| that$6#2$ be a service to$4$ literature?"
255:423,31['  ]| This question Isabel forbore to$9$ answer, as it
255:423,32['  ]| exceeded the little interrogatory to$4$ which$6#1$ she had
255:424,01['  ]| deemed it necessary to$9$ submit on$4$ her arrival.  Besides,
255:424,02['  ]| she had never been less interested in$4$ literature than
255:424,03['  ]| to-day, as she found when she occasionally took
255:424,04['  ]| down from the shelf one of the rare and valuable
255:424,05['  ]| volumes of which$6#1$ Mrs%*Touchett had spoken.  She
255:424,06['  ]| was quite unable to$9$ read; her attention had never
255:424,07['  ]| been so$5#1$ little at her command.  One afternoon, in$4$ the
255:424,08['  ]| library, about a week after the ceremony in$4$ the
255:424,09['  ]| churchyard, she was trying to$9$ fix it for$4$ an hour; but
255:424,10['  ]| her eyes often wandered from the book in$4$ her hand
255:424,11['  ]| to$4$ the open window, which$6#1$ looked down the long
255:424,12['  ]| avenue.  It was in$4$ this way that$3$ she saw a modest
255:424,13['  ]| vehicle approach the door and perceived Lord*Warburton
255:424,14['  ]| sitting, in$4$ rather an uncomfortable
255:424,15['  ]| attitude, in$4$ a corner of it.  
255:424,15@a   | He had always had a high
255:424,16@a   | standard of courtesy, and it was therefore not remarkable,
255:424,17@a   | under the circumstances, that$3$ he should
255:424,18@a   | have taken the trouble to$9$ come down from London to$9$
255:424,19@a   | call on$4$ Mrs%*Touchett.  It was of course Mrs%*Touchett
255:424,20@a   | he had come to$9$ see, and not Mrs%*Osmond; 
255:424,20['  ]| and to$9$
255:424,21['  ]| prove to$4$ herself the validity of this thesis Isabel
255:424,22['  ]| presently stepped out of the house and wandered
255:424,23['  ]| away into the park.  Since her arrival at Gardencourt
255:424,24['  ]| she had been but little out of doors, the weather
255:424,25['  ]| being unfavourable for$4$ visiting the grounds.  This
255:424,26['  ]| evening, however, was fine, and at first it struck her
255:424,27['  ]| as a happy thought to$9$ have come out.  The theory
255:424,28['  ]| I have just mentioned was plausible enough, but it
255:424,29['  ]| brought her little rest, and if you had seen her pacing
255:424,30['  ]| about you would have said she had a bad conscience.
255:424,31['  ]| She was not pacified when at the end of a quarter
255:424,32['  ]| of an hour, finding herself in$4$ view of the house, she
255:425,01['  ]| saw Mrs%*Touchett emerge from the portico accompanied
255:425,02['  ]| by$4$ her visitor.  
255:425,02@a   | Her aunt had evidently proposed
255:425,03@a   | to$4$ Lord*Warburton that$3$ they should come in$4$
255:425,04@a   | search of her.  She was in$4$ no$2$ humour for$4$ visitors
255:425,05@a   | and, if she had had a chance, would have drawn
255:425,06@a   | back behind one of the great trees.  But she saw she
255:425,07@a   | had been seen and that$3$ nothing was left her but to$9$
255:425,08@a   | advance.  
255:425,08['  ]| As the lawn at Gardencourt was a vast
255:425,09['  ]| expanse this took some time; during which$6#1$ she observed
255:425,10['  ]| that$3$, 
255:425,10@a   | as he walked beside his hostess, Lord*Warburton
255:425,11@a   | kept his hands rather stiffly behind him
255:425,12@a   | and his eyes upon$4$ the ground.  Both persons apparently
255:425,13@a   | were silent; but Mrs%*Touchett's thin little
255:425,14@a   | glance, as she directed it toward Isabel, had even at a
255:425,15@a   | distance an expression.  It seemed to$9$ say with cutting
255:425,16@a   | sharpness:
255:425,16@g   | "Here is the eminently amenable nobleman
255:425,17@g   | you might have married!"  
255:425,17@a   | When Lord*Warburton
255:425,18@a   | lifted his own eyes, however, that$6#2$ was not
255:425,19@a   | what they said.  They only said 
255:425,19@d   | "This is rather
255:425,20@d   | awkward, you know, and I depend upon$4$ you to$9$ help
255:425,21@d   | me."  
255:425,21@a   | He was very grave, very proper and, for$4$ the
255:425,22@a   | first time since Isabel had known him, greeted her
255:425,23@a   | without a smile.  Even in$4$ his days of distress he had
255:425,24@a   | always begun with a smile.  He looked extremely self-conscious.
255:425,25['  ]|
255:425,26[G  ]| "Lord Warburton has been so$5#1$ good as to$9$ come out
255:425,27[G  ]| to$9$ see me," 
255:425,27['  ]| said Mrs%*Touchett.  
255:425,27[G  ]| "He tells me he
255:425,28[G  ]| did not know you were still here.  I know he is an old
255:425,29[G  ]| friend of yours, and as I was told you were not in$4$ the
255:425,30[G  ]| house I brought him out to$9$ see for$4$ himself."
255:425,31[D  ]| "Oh, I saw there was a good train at 6%40, that$6#1$
255:425,32[D  ]| would get me back in$4$ time for$4$ dinner," 
255:425,32['  ]| Mrs%*Touchett's
255:426,01['  ]| companion rather irrelevantly explained.  
255:426,01[D  ]| "I am
255:426,02[D  ]| so$5#1$ glad to$9$ find you have not gone."
255:426,03[A  ]| "I am not here for$4$ long, you know," 
255:426,03['  ]| Isabel said
255:426,04['  ]| with a certain eagerness.
255:426,05[D  ]| "I suppose not; but I hope it is for$4$ some weeks.
255:426,06[D  ]| You came to$4$ England sooner than ~~ a ~~ than you
255:426,07[D  ]| thought?"
255:426,08[A  ]| "Yes, I came very suddenly."
255:426,09['  ]| Mrs%*Touchett turned away as if she were looking
255:426,10['  ]| at the condition of the grounds, which$6#1$ indeed was
255:426,11['  ]| not what it should be, while Lord*Warburton hesitated
255:426,12['  ]| a litle.  Isabel fancied 
255:426,12@a   | he had been on$4$ the point
255:426,13@a   | of asking about her husband ~~ rather confusedly ~~
255:426,14@a   | and then had checked himself.  He continued immitigably
255:426,15@a   | grave, either because he thought it becoming
255:426,16@a   | in$4$ a place over which$6#1$ death had just passed, or for$4$
255:426,17@a   | more personal reasons.  If he was conscious of personal
255:426,18@a   | reasons it was very fortunate that$3$ he had the
255:426,19@a   | cover of the former motive; he could make the most
255:426,20@a   | of that$6#2$.  
255:426,20['  ]| Isabel thought of all this.  
255:426,20@a   | It was not that$3$ his
255:426,21@a   | face was sad, for$3$ that$6#2$ was another matter; but it was
255:426,22@a   | strangely inexpressive.
255:426,23[D  ]| "My sisters would have been so$5#1$ glad to$9$ come if
255:426,24[D  ]| they had known you were still here ~~ if they had
255:426,25[D  ]| thought you would see them," 
255:426,25['  ]| Lord*Warburton went
255:426,26['  ]| on$5$.  
255:426,26[D  ]| "Do kindly let them see you before you leave
255:426,27[D  ]| England."
255:426,28[A  ]| "It would give me great pleasure; I have such a
255:426,29[A  ]| friendly recollection of them."
255:426,30[D  ]| "I do not know whether you would come to$4$ Lockleigh
255:426,31[D  ]| for$4$ a day or two?  You know there is always
255:426,32[D  ]| that$6#2$ old promise."  
255:426,32['  ]| And his lordship coloured a little
255:427,01['  ]| as he made this suggestion, which$6#1$ gave his face a
255:427,02['  ]| somewhat more familiar air.  
255:427,02[D  ]| "Perhaps I am not
255:427,03[D  ]| right in$4$ saying that$6#2$ just now; of course you are not
255:427,04[D  ]| thinking of visiting.  But I meant what would hardly
255:427,05[D  ]| be a visit.  My sisters are to$9$ be at Lockleigh at Whitsuntide
255:427,06[D  ]| for$4$ five days; and if you could come then ~~
255:427,07[D  ]| as you say you are not to$9$ be very long in$4$ England ~~
255:427,08[D  ]| I would see that$3$ there should be literally no*one
255:427,09[D  ]| else."
255:427,10['  ]| Isabel wondered 
255:427,10@a   | if not even the young lady he was
255:427,11@a   | to$9$ marry would be there with her mamma; 
255:427,11['  ]| but she
255:427,12['  ]| did not express the idea.  
255:427,12[A  ]| "Thank you extremely,"
255:427,13['  ]| she contented herself with saying; 
255:427,13[A  ]| "I am afraid I
255:427,14[A  ]| hardly know about Whitsuntide."
255:427,15[D  ]| "But I have your promise ~~ have not I? ~~ for$4$
255:427,16[D  ]| some other time."
255:427,17['  ]| There was an interrogation in$4$ this; but Isabel let
255:427,18['  ]| it pass.  She looked at her interlocutor a moment,
255:427,19['  ]| and the result of her observation was that$3$ ~~ as had
255:427,20['  ]| happened before ~~ she felt sorry for$4$ him.  
255:427,20[A  ]| "Take
255:427,21[A  ]| care you do not miss your train," 
255:427,21['  ]| she said.  And then
255:427,22['  ]| added:
255:427,22[A  ]| "I wish you every happiness."
255:427,23['  ]| He blushed again, more than before, and he looked
255:427,24['  ]| at his watch.  
255:427,24[D  ]| "Ah yes, 6%40;  I have not much time,
255:427,25[D  ]| but I have a fly at the door.  Thank you very much."
255:427,26@a   | It was not apparent whether the thanks applied to$4$
255:427,27@a   | her having reminded him of his train or to$4$ the more
255:427,28@a   | sentimental remark.  
255:427,28[D  ]| "Good-bye, Mrs%*Osmond;
255:427,29[D  ]| good-bye."  
255:427,29['  ]| He shook hands with her, without meeting
255:427,30['  ]| her eyes, and then he turned to$4$ Mrs%*Touchett,
255:427,31['  ]| who$6#1$ had wandered back to$4$ them.  With her his parting
255:427,32['  ]| was equally brief; and in$4$ a moment the two
255:428,01['  ]| ladies saw him move with long steps across the
255:428,02['  ]| lawn.
255:428,03[A  ]| "Are you very sure he is to$9$ be married?"  
255:428,03['  ]| Isabel
255:428,04['  ]| asked of her aunt.
255:428,05[G  ]| "I can not be surer than he; but he seems sure.  I
255:428,06[G  ]| congratulated him, and he accepted it."
255:428,07[A  ]| "Ah," 
255:428,07['  ]| said Isabel, 
255:428,07[A  ]| "I give it up$5$!" 
255:428,07['  ]| ~~ while her
255:428,08['  ]| aunt returned to$4$ the house and to$4$ those avocations
255:428,09['  ]| which$6#1$ the visitor had interrupted.
255:428,10['  ]| She gave it up$5$, but she still thought of it ~~ thought
255:428,11['  ]| of it while she strolled again under the great oaks
255:428,12['  ]| whose shadows were long upon$4$ the acres of turf.  At
255:428,13['  ]| the end of a few minutes she found herself near a
255:428,14['  ]| rustic bench, which$6#1$, a moment after she had looked
255:428,15['  ]| at it, struck her as an object recognised.  
255:428,15@a   | It was not
255:428,16@a   | simply that$3$ she had seen it before, nor even that$3$ she
255:428,17@a   | had sat upon$4$ it; it was that$3$ on$4$ this spot something
255:428,18@a   | important had happened to$4$ her ~~ that$3$ the place had
255:428,19@a   | an air of association.  
255:428,19['  ]| Then she remembered that$3$ 
255:428,19@a   | she
255:428,20@a   | had been sitting there, six years before, when a servant
255:428,21@a   | brought her from the house the letter in$4$ which$6#1$
255:428,22@a   | Caspar*Goodwood informed her that$3$ he had followed
255:428,23@a   | her to$4$ Europe; and that$3$ when she had read the letter
255:428,24@a   | she looked up$5$ to$9$ hear Lord*Warburton announcing
255:428,25@a   | that$3$ he should like$1$ to$9$ marry her.  It was indeed an
255:428,26@a   | historical, an interesting bench; 
255:428,26['  ]| she stood and looked
255:428,27['  ]| at it as if it might have something to$9$ say to$4$ her.
255:428,28@a   | She would not sit down on$4$ it now ~~ she felt rather
255:428,29@a   | afraid of it.  
255:428,29['  ]| She only stood before it, and while she
255:428,30['  ]| stood the past came back to$4$ her in$4$ one of those rushing
255:428,31['  ]| waves of emotion by$4$ which$6#1$ persons of sensibility
255:428,32['  ]| are visited at odd hours.  The effect of this agitation
255:429,01['  ]| was a sudden sense of being very tired, under the
255:429,02['  ]| influence of which$6#1$ she overcame her scruples and
255:429,03['  ]| sank into the rustic seat.  I have said that$3$ she was
255:429,04['  ]| restless and unable to$9$ occupy herself; and whether
255:429,05['  ]| or no$2$, if you had seen her there, you would have
255:429,06['  ]| admired the justice of the former epithet, you would
255:429,07['  ]| at least have allowed that$3$ at this moment she was
255:429,08['  ]| the image of a victim of idleness.  Her attitude had
255:429,09['  ]| a singular absence of purpose; her hands, hanging at
255:429,10['  ]| her sides, lost themselves in$4$ the folds of her black
255:429,11['  ]| dress; her eyes gazed vaguley before her.  There was
255:429,12['  ]| nothing to$9$ recall her to$4$ the house; the two ladies,
255:429,13['  ]| in$4$ their seclusion, dined early and had tea at an indefinite
255:429,14['  ]| hour.  How long she had sat in$4$ this position she
255:429,15['  ]| could not have told you; but the twilight had grown
255:429,16['  ]| thick when she became aware that$3$ she was not alone.
255:429,17['  ]| She quickly straightened herself, glancing about,
255:429,18['  ]| and then saw what had become of her solitude.  She
255:429,19['  ]| was sharing it with Caspar*Goodwood, who$6#1$ stood
255:429,20['  ]| looking at her, a few yards off, and whose footfall
255:429,21['  ]| on$4$ the unresonant turf, as he came near, she had not
255:429,22['  ]| heard.  It occurred to$4$ her in$4$ the midst of this that$3$
255:429,23@a   | it was just so$5#2$ Lord*Warburton had surprised her of
255:429,24@a   | old.
255:429,25['  ]| She instantly rose, and as soon as Goodwood saw
255:429,26['  ]| he was seen he started forward.  She had had time
255:429,27['  ]| only to$9$ rise when, with a motion that$6#1$ looked like$4$
255:429,28['  ]| violence, but felt like$4$ ~~ she knew not what, he
255:429,29['  ]| grasped her by$4$ the wrist and made her sink again
255:429,30['  ]| into the seat.  She closed her eyes; he had not hurt
255:429,31['  ]| her; it was only a touch, which$6#1$ she had obeyed.  But
255:429,32['  ]| there was something in$4$ his face that$6#1$ she wished not
255:430,01['  ]| to$9$ see.  
255:430,01@a   | That$6#2$ was the way he had looked at her the
255:430,02@a   | other day in$4$ the churchyard; only at present it was
255:430,03@a   | worse.  
255:430,03['  ]| He said nothing at first; she only felt him
255:430,04['  ]| close to$4$ her ~~ beside her on$4$ the bench and pressingly
255:430,05['  ]| turned to$4$ her.  It almost seemed to$4$ her that$3$ 
255:430,05@a   | no*one
255:430,06@a   | had ever been so$5#1$ close to$4$ her as that$6#2$.  
255:430,06['  ]| All this, however,
255:430,07['  ]| took but an instant, at the end of which$6#1$ she had disengaged
255:430,08['  ]| her wrist, turning her eyes upon$4$ her visitant.
255:430,09[A  ]| "You have frightened me," 
255:430,09['  ]| she said.
255:430,10[E  ]| "I did not mean to$9$," 
255:430,10['  ]| he answered, 
255:430,10[E  ]| "but if I did a
255:430,11[E  ]| little, no$2$ matter.  I came from London a while ago
255:430,12[E  ]| by$4$ the train, but I could not come here directly.  There
255:430,13[E  ]| was a man at the station who$6#1$ got ahead of me.  He
255:430,14[E  ]| took a fly that$6#1$ was there, and I heard him give the 
255:430,15[E  ]| order to$9$ drive here.  I do not know who$6#1$ he was, but
255:430,16[E  ]| I did not want to$9$ come with him; I wanted to$9$ see
255:430,17[E  ]| you alone.  So$3$ I have been waiting and walking about.
255:430,18[E  ]| I have walked all over, and I was just coming to$4$ the
255:430,19[E  ]| house when I saw you here.  There was a keeper, or
255:430,20[E  ]| some*one, who$6#1$ met me; but that$6#2$ was all right, because
255:430,21[E  ]| I had made his acquaintance when I came here with
255:430,22[E  ]| your cousin.  Is that$6#2$ gentleman gone?  Are you really
255:430,23[E  ]| alone?  I want to$9$ speak to$4$ you."  
255:430,23['  ]| Goodwood spoke
255:430,24['  ]| very fast; 
255:430,24@a   | he was as excited as when they had parted
255:430,25@a   | in$4$ Rome.  
255:430,25['  ]| Isabel had hoped that$6#2$ condition would
255:430,26['  ]| subside; and she shrank into herself as she perceived
255:430,27['  ]| that$3$, 
255:430,27@a   | on$4$ the contrary, he had only let out sail.  
255:430,27['  ]| She
255:430,28['  ]| had a new sensation; 
255:430,28@a   | he had never produced it
255:430,29@a   | before; it was a feeling of danger. There was indeed  
255:430,30@a   | something really formidable in$4$ his resolution.  
255:430,30['  ]| She
255:430,31['  ]| gazed straight before her; he, with a hand on$4$ each
255:430,32['  ]| knee, leaned forward, looking deeply into her face.
255:431,01['  ]| The twilight seemed to$9$ darken round them.  
255:431,01[E  ]| "I want
255:431,02[E  ]| to$9$ speak to$4$ you," 
255:431,02['  ]| he repeated; 
255:431,02[E  ]| "I have something
255:431,03[E  ]| particular to$9$ say.  I do not want to$9$ trouble you ~~ as
255:431,04[E  ]| I did the other day in$4$ Rome.  That$6#2$ was of no$2$ use;
255:431,05[E  ]| it only distressed you.  I could not help it; I knew
255:431,06[E  ]| I was wrong.  But I am not wrong now; please do not
255:431,07[E  ]| think I am," 
255:431,07['  ]| he went on$5$ with his hard, deep voice
255:431,08['  ]| melting a moment into entreaty.  
255:431,08[E  ]| "I came here to-day
255:431,09[E  ]| for$4$ a purpose.  It is very different.  It was vain for$4$ me
255:431,10[E  ]| to$9$ speak to$4$ you then; but now I can help you."
255:431,11['  ]| She could not have told you whether it was because
255:431,12['  ]| she was afraid, or because such a voice in$4$ the darkness
255:431,13['  ]| seemed of necessity a boon; but she listened
255:431,14['  ]| to$4$ him as she had never listened before; his words
255:431,15['  ]| dropped deep into her soul.  They produced a sort
255:431,16['  ]| of stillness in$4$ all her being; and it was with an effort,
255:431,17['  ]| in$4$ a moment, that$3$ she answered him.  
255:431,17[A  ]| "How can you
255:431,18[A  ]| help me?"  
255:431,18['  ]| she asked in$4$ a low tone, as if she were
255:431,19['  ]| taking what he had said seriously enough to$9$ make
255:431,20['  ]| the enquiry in$4$ confidence.
255:431,21[E  ]| "By$4$ inducing you to$9$ trust me.  Now I know ~~
255:431,22[E  ]| to-day I know.  Do you remember what I asked you
255:431,23[E  ]| in$4$ Rome?  Then I was quite in$4$ the dark.  But to-day
255:431,24[E  ]| I know on$4$ good authority; everything is clear to$4$ me
255:431,25[E  ]| to-day.  It was a good thing when you made me come
255:431,26[E  ]| away with your cousin.  He was a good man, a fine
255:431,27[E  ]| man, one of the best; he told me how the case stands
255:431,28[E  ]| for$4$ you.  He explained everything; he guessed my
255:431,29[E  ]| sentiments.  He was a member of your family and
255:431,30[E  ]| he left you ~~ so$5#1$ long as you should be in$4$ England ~~
255:431,31[E  ]| to$4$ my care," 
255:431,31['  ]| said Goodwood as if he were making
255:431,32['  ]| a great point.  
255:431,32[E  ]| "Do you know what he said to$4$ me the
255:432,01[E  ]| last time I saw him ~~ as he lay there where he died?
255:432,02[E  ]| He said:
255:432,02@b   | ""Do everything you can for$4$ her; do everything
255:432,03@b   | she will$1$ let you."""
255:432,04['  ]| Isabel suddenly got up$5$.  
255:432,04[A  ]| "You had no$2$ business to$9$
255:432,05[A  ]| talk about me!"
255:432,06[E  ]| "Why not ~~ why not, when we talked in$4$ that$6#2$
255:432,07[E  ]| way?"  
255:432,07['  ]| he demanded, following her fast.  
255:432,07[E  ]| "And he
255:432,08[E  ]| was dying ~~ when a man is dying it is different."
255:432,09['  ]| She checked the movement she had made to$9$ leave
255:432,10['  ]| him; she was listening more than ever; 
255:432,10@a   | it was true
255:432,11@a   | that$3$ he was not the same as that$6#2$ last time.  That$6#2$ had
255:432,12@a   | been aimless, fruitless passion, but at present he had
255:432,13@a   | an idea, which$6#1$ she scented in$4$ all her being.  
255:432,13[E  ]| "But it
255:432,14[E  ]| does not matter!"  
255:432,14['  ]| he exclaimed, pressing her still
255:432,15['  ]| harder, though now without touching a hem of her
255:432,16['  ]| garment.  
255:432,16[E  ]| "If Touchett had never opened his mouth
255:432,17[E  ]| I should have known all the same.  I had only to$9$ look
255:432,18[E  ]| at you at your cousin's funeral to$9$ see what is the
255:432,19[E  ]| matter with you.  You can not deceive me any more;
255:432,20[E  ]| for$4$ God's sake be honest with a man who$6#1$ is so$5#1$
255:432,21[E  ]| honest with you.  You are the most unhappy of women,
255:432,22[E  ]| and your husband is the deadliest of fiends."
255:432,23['  ]| She turned on$4$ him as if he had struck her.  
255:432,23[A  ]| "Are
255:432,24[A  ]| you mad?"  
255:432,24['  ]| she cried.
255:432,25[E  ]| "I have never been so$5#1$ sane; I see the whole thing.
255:432,26[E  ]| Do not think it is necessary to$9$ defend him.  But I will$1$ not
255:432,27[E  ]| say another word against him; I will$1$ speak only of
255:432,28[E  ]| you," 
255:432,28['  ]| Goodwood added quickly.  
255:432,28[E  ]| "How can you
255:432,29[E  ]| pretend you are not heart-broken?  You do not know
255:432,30[E  ]| what to$9$ do ~~ you do not know where to$9$ turn.  It is
255:432,31[E  ]| too late to$9$ play a part; did not you leave all that$6#2$
255:432,32[E  ]| behind you in$4$ Rome?  Touchett knew all about it,
255:433,01[E  ]| and I knew it too ~~ what it would cost you to$9$ come
255:433,02[E  ]| here.  It will$1$ have cost you your life?  Say it will$1$" ~~
255:433,03['  ]| and he flared almost into anger:
255:433,03[E  ]| "give me one word
255:433,04[E  ]| of truth!  When I know such a horror as that$6#2$, how
255:433,05[E  ]| can I keep myself from wishing to$9$ save you?  What
255:433,06[E  ]| would you think of me if I should stand still and see
255:433,07[E  ]| you go back to$4$ your reward?  
255:433,07@b   | ""It is awful, what she will$1$
255:433,08@b   | have to$9$ pay for$4$ it!"" 
255:433,08[E  ]| ~~ that$6#2$ is what Touchett said to$4$
255:433,09[E  ]| me.  I may tell you that$6#2$, may not I?  He was such
255:433,10[E  ]| a near relation!"  
255:433,10['  ]| cried Goodwood, making his queer
255:433,11['  ]| grim point again.  
255:433,11[E  ]| "I would sooner have been shot than
255:433,12[E  ]| let another man say those things to$4$ me; but he was
255:433,13[E  ]| different; he seemed to$4$ me to$9$ have the right.  It was
255:433,14[E  ]| after he got home ~~ when he saw he was dying, and 
255:433,15[E  ]| when I saw it too.  I understand all about it: you are
255:433,16[E  ]| afraid to$9$ go back.  You are perfectly alone; you do not
255:433,17[E  ]| know where to$9$ turn.  You can not turn anywhere; you
255:433,18[E  ]| know that$6#2$ perfectly.  Now it is therefore that$3$ I want
255:433,19[E  ]| you to$9$ think of \me\."
255:433,20[A  ]| "To$9$ think of ""you""?"  
255:433,20['  ]| Isabel said, standing before
255:433,21['  ]| him in$4$ the dusk.  The idea of which$6#1$ she had caught
255:433,22['  ]| a glimpse a few moments before now loomed large.
255:433,23['  ]| She threw back her head a little; she stared at it as
255:433,24['  ]| if it had been a comet in$4$ the sky.
255:433,25[E  ]| "You do not know where to$9$ turn.  Turn straight
255:433,26[E  ]| to$4$ \me\.  I want to$9$ persuade you to$9$ trust me," 
255:433,26['  ]| Goodwood
255:433,27['  ]| repeated.  And then he paused with his shining
255:433,28['  ]| eyes.  
255:433,28[E  ]| "Why should you go back ~~ why should you
255:433,29[E  ]| go through that$6#2$ ghastly form?"
255:433,30[A  ]| "To$9$ get away from \you\!"  
255:433,30['  ]| she answered. But this
255:433,31['  ]| expressed only a little of what she felt.  The rest was
255:433,32['  ]| that$3$ 
255:433,32@a   | she had never been loved before.  She had believed
255:434,01@a   | it, but this was different; this was the hot
255:434,02@a   | wind of the desert, at the approach of which$6#1$ the
255:434,03@a   | others dropped dead, like$4$ mere sweet airs of the
255:434,04@a   | garden.  It wrapped her about; it lifted her off her
255:434,05@a   | feet, while the very taste of it, as of something potent,
255:434,06@a   | acrid and strange, forced open her set teeth.
255:434,07['  ]| At first, in$4$ rejoinder to$4$ what she had said, it seemed
255:434,08['  ]| to$4$ her that$3$ 
255:434,08@a   | he would break out into greater violence.
255:434,09@a   | But after an instant he was perfectly quiet; he wished
255:434,10@a   | to$9$ prove he was sane, that$3$ he had reasoned it all out.
255:434,11[E  ]| "I want to$9$ prevent that$6#2$, and I think I may, if you will$1$
255:434,12[E  ]| only for$4$ once listen to$4$ me.  It is too monstrous of you
255:434,13[E  ]| to$9$ think of sinking back into that$6#2$ misery, of going
255:434,14[E  ]| to$9$ open your mouth to$4$ that$6#2$ poisoned air.  It is you
255:434,15[E  ]| that$6#1$ are out of your mind.  Trust me as if I had the
255:434,16[E  ]| care of you.  Why should not we be happy ~~ when
255:434,17[E  ]| it is here before us, when it is so$5#1$ easy?  I am yours for*ever
255:434,18[E  ]| ~~ for*ever and ever.  Here I stand; I am as
255:434,19[E  ]| firm as a rock.  What have you to$9$ care about?  You have
255:434,20[E  ]| no$2$ children; that$6#2$ perhaps would be an obstacle.
255:434,21[E  ]| As it is you have nothing to$9$ consider.  You must save
255:434,22[E  ]| what you can of your life; you must not lose it all
255:434,23[E  ]| simply because you have lost a part.  It would be an
255:434,24[E  ]| insult to$4$ you to$9$ assume that$3$ you care for$4$ the look of
255:434,25[E  ]| the thing, for$4$ what people will$1$ say, for$4$ the bottomless
255:434,26[E  ]| idiocy of the world.  We have nothing to$9$ do with all
255:434,27[E  ]| that$6#2$; we are quite out of it; we look at things as they
255:434,28[E  ]| are.  You took the great step in$4$ coming away; the
255:434,29[E  ]| next is nothing; it is the natural one.  I swear, as I
255:434,30[E  ]| stand here, that$3$ a woman deliberately made to$9$ suffer
255:434,31[E  ]| is justified in$4$ anything in$4$ life ~~ in$4$ going down into
255:434,32[E  ]| the streets if that$6#2$ will$1$ help her!  I know how you
255:435,01[E  ]| suffer, and that$6#2$ is why I am here.  We can do absolutely
255:435,02[E  ]| as we please; to$4$ whom under the sun do we
255:435,03[E  ]| owe anything?  What is it that$6#1$ holds us, what is it
255:435,04[E  ]| that$6#1$ has the smallest right to$9$ interfere in$4$ such a question
255:435,05[E  ]| as this?  Such a question is between ourselves ~~
255:435,06[E  ]| and to$9$ say that$6#2$ is to$9$ settle it!  Were we born to$9$ rot in$4$
255:435,07[E  ]| our misery ~~ were we born to$9$ be afraid?  I never
255:435,08[E  ]| knew \you\ afraid!  If you will$1$ only trust me, how little
255:435,09[E  ]| you will$1$ be disappointed!  The world is all before us
255:435,10[E  ]| ~~ and the world is very big.  I know something about
255:435,11[E  ]| that$6#2$."
255:435,12['  ]| Isabel gave a long murmur, like$4$ a creature in$4$ pain;
255:435,13@a   | it was as if he were pressing something that$6#1$ hurt her.
255:435,14[A  ]| "The world is very small," 
255:435,14['  ]| she said at random; she
255:435,15['  ]| had an immense desire to$9$ appear to$9$ resist.  She said
255:435,16['  ]| it at random, to$9$ hear herself say something; but it
255:435,17['  ]| was not what she meant.  
255:435,16@a   | The world, in$4$ truth, had
255:435,18@a   | never seemed so$5#1$ large; it seemed to$9$ open out, all
255:435,19@a   | round her, to$9$ take the form of a mighty sea, where
255:435,20@a   | she floated in$4$ fathomless waters.  She had wanted
255:435,21@a   | help, and here was help; it had come in$4$ a rushing
255:435,22@a   | torrent.  
255:435,22['  ]| I know not whether she believed everything
255:435,23['  ]| he said; but she believed just then that$3$ 
255:435,23@a   | to$9$ let him
255:435,24@a   | take her in$4$ his arms would be the next best thing to$4$
255:435,25@a   | her dying.  
255:435,25['  ]| This belief, for$4$ a moment, was a kind of
255:435,26['  ]| rapture, in$4$ which$6#1$ she felt herself sink and sink.  In$4$ the
255:435,27['  ]| movement she seemed to$9$ beat with her feet, in$4$ order
255:435,28['  ]| to$9$ catch herself, to$9$ feel something to$9$ rest on$5$.
255:435,29[E  ]| "Ah, be mine as I am yours!"  
255:435,29['  ]| she heard her companion
255:435,30['  ]| cry.  
255:435,30@a   | He had suddenly given up$5$ argument,
255:435,31@a   | and his voice seemed to$9$ come, harsh and terrible
255:435,32@a   | through a confusion of vaguer sounds.
255:436,01['  ]| This however, of course, was but a subjective fact,
255:436,02['  ]| as the metaphysicians say; the confusion, the noise
255:436,03['  ]| of waters, all the rest of it, were in$4$ her own swimming
255:436,04['  ]| head.  In$4$ an instant she became aware of this.  
255:436,04[A  ]| "Do
255:436,05[A  ]| me the greatest kindness of all," 
255:436,05['  ]| she panted.  
255:436,05[A  ]| "I beseech
255:436,06[A  ]| you to$9$ go away!"
255:436,07[E  ]| "Ah, do not say that$6#2$.  Do not kill me!"  
255:436,07['  ]| he cried.
255:436,08['  ]| She clasped her hands; her eyes were streaming
255:436,09['  ]| with tears.  
255:436,09[A  ]| "As you love me, as you pity me, leave
255:436,10[A  ]| me alone!"
255:436,11['  ]| He glared at her a moment through the dusk, and
255:436,12['  ]| the next instant she felt his arms about her and his
255:436,13['  ]| lips on$4$ her own lips.  
255:436,13@a   | His kiss was like$4$ white lightning,
255:436,14@a   | a flash that$6#1$ spread, and spread again, and stayed;
255:436,15@a   | and it was extraordinarily as if, while she took it,
255:436,16@a   | she felt each thing in$4$ his hard manhood that$6#1$ had
255:436,17@a   | least pleased her, each aggressive fact of his face,
255:436,18@a   | his figure, his presence, justified of its intense identity
255:436,19@a   | and made one with this act of possession.  
255:436,19['  ]| So$5#2$ had
255:436,20['  ]| she heard of those wrecked and under water following
255:436,21['  ]| a train of images before they sink.  But when darkness
255:436,22['  ]| returned she was free.  She never looked about
255:436,23['  ]| her; she only darted from the spot.  There were
255:436,24['  ]| lights in$4$ the windows of the house; they shone far
255:436,25['  ]| across the lawn.  In$4$ an extraordinarily short time ~~
255:436,26['  ]| for$4$ the distance was considerable ~~ she had moved
255:436,27['  ]| through the darkness (for$3$ she saw nothing) and
255:436,28['  ]| reached the door.  Here only she paused.  She looked
255:436,29['  ]| all about her; she listened a little; then she put her
255:436,30['  ]| hand on$4$ the latch.  
255:436,30@a   | She had not known where to$9$
255:436,31@a   | turn; but she knew now.  There was a very straight
255:436,32@a   | path.
255:437,01['  ]| Two days afterwards Caspar*Goodwood knocked
255:437,02['  ]| at the door of the house in$4$ Wimpole Street in$4$ which$6#1$
255:437,03['  ]| Henrietta*Stackpole occupied furnished lodgings.
255:437,04['  ]| He had hardly removed his hand from the knocker
255:437,05['  ]| when the door was opened and Miss*Stackpole herself
255:437,06['  ]| stood before him.  She had on$4$ her hat and jacket;
255:437,07['  ]| she was on$4$ the point of going out.  
255:437,07[E  ]| "Oh, good-morning,"
255:437,08['  ]| he said, 
255:437,08[E  ]| "I was in$4$ hopes I should find Mrs%*Osmond."
255:437,09[E  ]| 
255:437,10['  ]| Henrietta kept him waiting a moment for$4$ her reply;
255:437,11['  ]| but there was a good deal of expression about Miss*Stackpole
255:437,12['  ]| even when she was silent.  
255:437,12[I  ]| "Pray what led
255:437,13[I  ]| you to$9$ suppose she was here?"
255:437,14[E  ]| "I went down to$4$ Gardencourt this morning, and
255:437,15[E  ]| the servant told me she had come to$4$ London.  He
255:437,16[E  ]| believed she was to$9$ come to$4$ you."
255:437,17['  ]| Again Miss*Stackpole held him ~~ with an intention
255:437,18['  ]| of perfect kindness ~~ in$4$ suspense.  
255:437,18[I  ]| "She came
255:437,19[I  ]| here yesterday, and spent the night.  But this morning
255:437,20[I  ]| she started for$4$ Rome."
255:437,21['  ]| Caspar*Goodwood was not looking at her; his
255:437,22['  ]| eyes were fastened on$4$ the doorstep.  
255:437,22[E  ]| "Oh, she
255:437,23[E  ]| started ~~ ?"  
255:437,23['  ]| he stammered.  And without finishing
255:437,24['  ]| his phrase or looking up$5$ he stiffly averted himself.
255:437,25['  ]| But he could not otherwise move.
255:437,26['  ]| Henrietta had come out, closing the door behind
255:437,27['  ]| her, and now she put out her hand and grasped his
255:437,28['  ]| arm.  
255:437,28[I  ]| "Look here, Mr%*Goodwood," 
255:437,28['  ]| she said; 
255:437,28[I  ]| "just
255:437,29[I  ]| you wait!"
255:437,30['  ]| On$4$ which$6#1$ he looked up$5$ at her ~~ but only to$9$ guess,
255:437,31['  ]| from her face, with a revulsion, that$3$ she simply
255:437,32['  ]| meant he was young.  She stood shining at him
255:438,01['  ]| with that$6#2$ cheap comfort, and it added, on$4$ the spot,
255:438,02['  ]| thirty years to$4$ his life.  She walked him away with
255:438,03['  ]| her, however, as if she had given him now the key
255:438,04['  ]| to$4$ patience.