Page 810 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

bel.
‘I could have told him he wouldn’t. I don’t call that crow-
ing over you,’ Mrs. Touchett added. ‘Do you still like Serena
Merle?’ she went on.
‘Not as I once did. But it doesn’t matter, for she’s going
to America.’
‘To America? She must have done something very bad.’
‘Yes-very bad.’
‘May I ask what it is?’
‘She made a convenience of me.’
‘Ah,’ cried Mrs. Touchett, ‘so she did of me! She does of
every one.’
‘She’ll make a convenience of America,’ said Isabel, smil-
ing again and glad that her aunt’s questions were over.
It was not till the evening that she was able to see Ralph.
He had been dozing all day; at least he had been lying un-
conscious. The doctor was there, but after a while went
away-the local doctor, who had attended his father and
whom Ralph liked. He came three or four times a day; he
was deeply interested in his patient. Ralph had had Sir Mat-
thew Hope, but he had got tired of this celebrated man, to
whom he had asked his mother to send word he was now
dead and was therefore without further need of medical ad-
vice. Mrs. Touchett had simply written to Sir Matthew that
her son disliked him. On the day of Isabel’s arrival Ralph
gave no sign, as I have related, for many hours; but toward
evening he raised himself and said he knew that she had
come. How he knew was not apparent, inasmuch as for fear
of exciting him no one had offered the information. Isabel

810 The Portrait of a Lady