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shall not live many years; but I hope I shall live long enough
to see what she does with herself. She’s entirely independent
of me; I can exercise very little influence upon her life. But I
should like to do something for her.’
‘What should you like to do?’
‘I should like to put a little wind in her sails.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I should like to put it into her power to do some of the
things she wants. She wants to see the world for instance. I
should like to put money in her purse.’
‘Ah, I’m glad you’ve thought of that,’ said the old man.
‘But I’ve thought of it too. I’ve left her a legacy—five thou-
sand pounds.’
‘That’s capital; it’s very kind of you. But I should like to
do a little more.’
Something of that veiled acuteness with which it had
been on Daniel Touchett’s part the habit of a lifetime to
listen to a financial proposition still lingered in the face in
which the invalid had not obliterated the man of happiness.
‘I shall be happy to consider it,’ he said softly.
‘Isabel’s poor then. My mother tells me that she has but a
few hundred dollars a year. I should like to make her rich.’
‘What do you mean by rich?’
‘I call people rich when they’re able to meet the re-
quirements of their imagination. Isabel has a great deal of
imagination.’
‘So have you, my son,’ said Mr. Touchett, listening very
attentively but a little confusedly.
‘You tell me I shall have money enough for two. What I

256 The Portrait of a Lady