Page 710 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

then I’ve heard a great deal about you.’
‘I don’t know from whom, leading the life you’ve done.’
‘From the voices of the air! Oh, from no one else; I never
let other people speak of you. They always say you’re ‘charm-
ing,’ and that’s so flat.’
‘I might have seen more of you certainly,’ Isabel said. ‘But
when one’s married one has so much occupation.’
‘Fortunately I’m not married. When you come to see me
in England I shall be able to entertain you with all the free-
dom of a bachelor.’ He continued to talk as if they should
certainly meet again, and succeeded in making the assump-
tion appear almost just. He made no allusion to his term
being near, to the probability that he should not outlast the
summer. If he preferred it so, Isabel was willing enough; the
reality was sufficiently distinct without their erecting fin-
ger-posts in conversation. That had been well enough for the
earlier time, though about this, as about his other affairs,
Ralph had never been egotistic. Isabel spoke of his journey,
of the stages into which he should divide it, of the precau-
tions he should take. ‘Henrietta’s my greatest precaution,’ he
went on. ‘The conscience of that woman’s sublime.’
‘Certainly she’ll be very conscientious.’
‘Will be? She has been! It’s only because she thinks it’s
her duty that she goes with me. There’s a conception of duty
for you.’
‘Yes, it’s a generous one,’ said Isabel, ‘and it makes me
deeply ashamed.
I ought to go with you, you know.’
‘Your husband wouldn’t like that.’

710 The Portrait of a Lady