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an effort, in a moment, that she answered him. ‘How can
you help me?’ she asked in a low tone, as if she were taking
what he had said seriously enough to make the enquiry in
confidence.
‘By inducing you to trust me. Now I know-to-day I know.
Do you remember what I asked you in Rome? Then I was
quite in the dark. But to-day I know on good authority; ev-
erything’s clear to me to-day. It was a good thing when you
made me come away with your cousin. He was a good man,
a fine man, one of the best; he told me how the case stands
for you. He explained everything; he guessed my senti-
ments. He was a member of your family and he left you-so
long as you should be in England-to my care,’ said Good-
wood as if he were making a great point. ‘Do you know what
he said to me the last time I saw him-as he lay there where
he died? He said: ‘Do everything you can for her; do every-
thing she’ll let you.’’
Isabel suddenly got up. ‘You had no business to talk
about me!’
‘Why not-why not, when we talked in that way?’ he de-
manded, following her fast. ‘And he was dying-when a
man’s dying it’s different.’ She checked the movement she
had made to leave him; she was listening more than ever;
it was true that he was not the same as that last time. That
had been aimless, fruitless passion, but at present he had
an idea, which she scented in all her being. ‘But it doesn’t
matter!’ he exclaimed, pressing her still harder, though now
without touching a hem of her garment. ‘If Touchett had
never opened his mouth I should have known all the same. I

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