 this Ralph started, meeting the question with a strained smile. "Do I understand you to propose that I should marry Isabel?"
"Well, that's what it comes to in the end. Don't you like Isabel?"
"Yes, very much." And Ralph got up from his chair and wandered over to the fire. He stood before it an instant and then he stooped and stirred it mechanically. "I like Isabel very much," he repeated.
"Well," said his father, "I know she likes you. She has told me how much she likes you."
"Did she remark that she would like to marry me?"
"No, but she can't have anything against you. And she's the most charming young lady I've ever seen. And she would be good to you. I have thought a great deal about it."
"So have I," said Ralph, coming back to the bedside again. "I don't mind telling you that."
"You ARE in love with her then? I should think you would be. It's as if she came over on purpose."
"No, I'm not in love with her; but I should be if—if certain things were different."
"Ah, things are always different from what they might be," said the old man. "If you wait for them to change you'll never do anything. I don't know whether you know," he went on; "but I suppose there's no harm in my alluding to it at such an hour as this: there was some one wanted to marry Isabel the other day, and she wouldn't have him."
"I know she refused Warburton: he told me himself."
"Well, that proves there's a chance for somebody else."
"Somebody else took his chance the other day in London—and got nothing by it."
"Was it you?" Mr. Touchett eagerly asked.
"No, it was an older friend; a poor gentleman who came over from America to see about it."
"Well, I'm sorry for him, whoever he was. But it only proves what I say—that the way's open to you."
"If it is, dear father, it's all the greater pity that I'm unable to tread it. I haven't many convictions; but I have three or four that I hold strongly.
