The Portrait of a Lady — Volume 1

by Henry James

  CHAPTER XVII

  She was not praying; she was trembling--trembling all over. Vibrationwas easy to her, was in fact too constant with her, and she foundherself now humming like a smitten harp. She only asked, however, to puton the cover, to case herself again in brown holland, but she wished toresist her excitement, and the attitude of devotion, which she kept forsome time, seemed to help her to be still. She intensely rejoiced thatCaspar Goodwood was gone; there was something in having thus got rid ofhim that was like the payment, for a stamped receipt, of some debttoo long on her mind. As she felt the glad relief she bowed her head alittle lower; the sense was there, throbbing in her heart; it was partof her emotion, but it was a thing to be ashamed of--it was profane andout of place. It was not for some ten minutes that she rose from herknees, and even when she came back to the sitting-room her tremor hadnot quite subsided. It had had, verily, two causes: part of it was to beaccounted for by her long discussion with Mr. Goodwood, but it might befeared that the rest was simply the enjoyment she found in the exerciseof her power. She sat down in the same chair again and took up her book,but without going through the form of opening the volume. She leanedback, with that low, soft, aspiring murmur with which she oftenuttered her response to accidents of which the brighter side was notsuperficially obvious, and yielded to the satisfaction of having refusedtwo ardent suitors in a fortnight. That love of liberty of which shehad given Caspar Goodwood so bold a sketch was as yet almost exclusivelytheoretic; she had not been able to indulge it on a large scale. But itappeared to her she had done something; she had tasted of the delight,if not of battle, at least of victory; she had done what was truest toher plan. In the glow of this consciousness the image of Mr. Goodwoodtaking his sad walk homeward through the dingy town presented itselfwith a certain reproachful force; so that, as at the same moment thedoor of the room was opened, she rose with an apprehension that hehad come back. But it was only Henrietta Stackpole returning from herdinner.

  Miss Stackpole immediately saw that our young lady had been "through"something, and indeed the discovery demanded no great penetration. Shewent straight up to her friend, who received her without a greeting.Isabel's elation in having sent Caspar Goodwood back to Americapresupposed her being in a manner glad he had come to see her; but atthe same time she perfectly remembered Henrietta had had no right to seta trap for her. "Has he been here, dear?" the latter yearningly asked.

  Isabel turned away and for some moments answered nothing. "You actedvery wrongly," she declared at last.

  "I acted for the best. I only hope you acted as well."

  "You're not the judge. I can't trust you," said Isabel.

  This declaration was unflattering, but Henrietta was much too unselfishto heed the charge it conveyed; she cared only for what it intimatedwith regard to her friend. "Isabel Archer," she observed with equalabruptness and solemnity, "if you marry one of these people I'll neverspeak to you again!"

  "Before making so terrible a threat you had better wait till I'm asked,"Isabel replied. Never having said a word to Miss Stackpole about LordWarburton's overtures, she had now no impulse whatever to justifyherself to Henrietta by telling her that she had refused that nobleman.

  "Oh, you'll be asked quick enough, once you get off on the Continent.Annie Climber was asked three times in Italy--poor plain little Annie."

  "Well, if Annie Climber wasn't captured why should I be?"

  "I don't believe Annie was pressed; but you'll be."

  "That's a flattering conviction," said Isabel without alarm.

  "I don't flatter you, Isabel, I tell you the truth!" cried her friend."I hope you don't mean to tell me that you didn't give Mr. Goodwood somehope."

  "I don't see why I should tell you anything; as I said to you just now,I can't trust you. But since you're so much interested in Mr. Goodwood Iwon't conceal from you that he returns immediately to America."

  "You don't mean to say you've sent him off?" Henrietta almost shrieked.

  "I asked him to leave me alone; and I ask you the same, Henrietta." MissStackpole glittered for an instant with dismay, and then passed to themirror over the chimney-piece and took off her bonnet. "I hope you'veenjoyed your dinner," Isabel went on.

  But her companion was not to be diverted by frivolous propositions. "Doyou know where you're going, Isabel Archer?"

  "Just now I'm going to bed," said Isabel with persistent frivolity.

  "Do you know where you're drifting?" Henrietta pursued, holding out herbonnet delicately.

  "No, I haven't the least idea, and I find it very pleasant not to know.A swift carriage, of a dark night, rattling with four horses over roadsthat one can't see--that's my idea of happiness."

  "Mr. Goodwood certainly didn't teach you to say such things asthat--like the heroine of an immoral novel," said Miss Stackpole."You're drifting to some great mistake."

  Isabel was irritated by her friend's interference, yet she still triedto think what truth this declaration could represent. She could thinkof nothing that diverted her from saying: "You must be very fond of me,Henrietta, to be willing to be so aggressive."

  "I love you intensely, Isabel," said Miss Stackpole with feeling.

  "Well, if you love me intensely let me as intensely alone. I asked thatof Mr. Goodwood, and I must also ask it of you."

  "Take care you're not let alone too much."

  "That's what Mr. Goodwood said to me. I told him I must take the risks."

  "You're a creature of risks--you make me shudder!" cried Henrietta."When does Mr. Goodwood return to America?"

  "I don't know--he didn't tell me."

  "Perhaps you didn't enquire," said Henrietta with the note of righteousirony.

  "I gave him too little satisfaction to have the right to ask questionsof him."

  This assertion seemed to Miss Stackpole for a moment to bid defiance tocomment; but at last she exclaimed: "Well, Isabel, if I didn't know youI might think you were heartless!"

  "Take care," said Isabel; "you're spoiling me."

  "I'm afraid I've done that already. I hope, at least," Miss Stackpoleadded, "that he may cross with Annie Climber!"

  Isabel learned from her the next morning that she had determined not toreturn to Gardencourt (where old Mr. Touchett had promised her a renewedwelcome), but to await in London the arrival of the invitation that Mr.Bantling had promised her from his sister Lady Pensil. Miss Stackpolerelated very freely her conversation with Ralph Touchett's sociablefriend and declared to Isabel that she really believed she had now gothold of something that would lead to something. On the receipt of LadyPensil's letter--Mr. Bantling had virtually guaranteed the arrival ofthis document--she would immediately depart for Bedfordshire, and ifIsabel cared to look out for her impressions in the Interviewershe would certainly find them. Henrietta was evidently going to seesomething of the inner life this time.

  "Do you know where you're drifting, Henrietta Stackpole?" Isabel asked,imitating the tone in which her friend had spoken the night before.

  "I'm drifting to a big position--that of the Queen of AmericanJournalism. If my next letter isn't copied all over the West I'llswallow my penwiper!"

  She had arranged with her friend Miss Annie Climber, the young ladyof the continental offers, that they should go together to makethose purchases which were to constitute Miss Climber's farewell to ahemisphere in which she at least had been appreciated; and she presentlyrepaired to Jermyn Street to pick up her companion. Shortly after herdeparture Ralph Touchett was announced, and as soon as he came in Isabelsaw he had something on his mind. He very soon took his cousin into hisconfidence. He had received from his mother a telegram to the effectthat his father had had a sharp attack of his old malady, that shewas much alarmed and that she begged he would instantly return toGardencourt. On this occasion at least Mrs. Touchett's devotion to theelectric wire was not open to criticism.

  "I've judged it best to see the great doctor, Sir Matthew Hope,first," Ralph said; "by great good luck he's in town. He's to see
meat half-past twelve, and I shall make sure of his coming down toGardencourt--which he will do the more readily as he has already seenmy father several times, both there and in London. There's an expressat two-forty-five, which I shall take; and you'll come back with me orremain here a few days longer, exactly as you prefer."

  "I shall certainly go with you," Isabel returned. "I don't suppose I canbe of any use to my uncle, but if he's ill I shall like to be near him."

  "I think you're fond of him," said Ralph with a certain shy pleasurein his face. "You appreciate him, which all the world hasn't done. Thequality's too fine."

  "I quite adore him," Isabel after a moment said.

  "That's very well. After his son he's your greatest admirer." Shewelcomed this assurance, but she gave secretly a small sigh of reliefat the thought that Mr. Touchett was one of those admirers who couldn'tpropose to marry her. This, however, was not what she spoke; she went onto inform Ralph that there were other reasons for her not remaining inLondon. She was tired of it and wished to leave it; and then Henriettawas going away--going to stay in Bedfordshire.

  "In Bedfordshire?"

  "With Lady Pensil, the sister of Mr. Bantling, who has answered for aninvitation."

  Ralph was feeling anxious, but at this he broke into a laugh. Suddenly,none the less, his gravity returned. "Bantling's a man of courage. Butif the invitation should get lost on the way?"

  "I thought the British post-office was impeccable."

  "The good Homer sometimes nods," said Ralph. "However," he went on morebrightly, "the good Bantling never does, and, whatever happens, he'lltake care of Henrietta."

  Ralph went to keep his appointment with Sir Matthew Hope, and Isabelmade her arrangements for quitting Pratt's Hotel. Her uncle's dangertouched her nearly, and while she stood before her open trunk, lookingabout her vaguely for what she should put into it, the tears suddenlyrose to her eyes. It was perhaps for this reason that when Ralph cameback at two o'clock to take her to the station she was not yet ready. Hefound Miss Stackpole, however, in the sitting-room, where she had justrisen from her luncheon, and this lady immediately expressed her regretat his father's illness.

  "He's a grand old man," she said; "he's faithful to the last. If it'sreally to be the last--pardon my alluding to it, but you must oftenhave thought of the possibility--I'm sorry that I shall not be atGardencourt."

  "You'll amuse yourself much more in Bedfordshire."

  "I shall be sorry to amuse myself at such a time," said Henriettawith much propriety. But she immediately added: "I should like so tocommemorate the closing scene."

  "My father may live a long time," said Ralph simply. Then, advertingto topics more cheerful, he interrogated Miss Stackpole as to her ownfuture.

  Now that Ralph was in trouble she addressed him in a tone of largerallowance and told him that she was much indebted to him for having madeher acquainted with Mr. Bantling. "He has told me just the things Iwant to know," she said; "all the society items and all about the royalfamily. I can't make out that what he tells me about the royal family ismuch to their credit; but he says that's only my peculiar way of lookingat it. Well, all I want is that he should give me the facts; I can putthem together quick enough, once I've got them." And she added that Mr.Bantling had been so good as to promise to come and take her out thatafternoon.

  "To take you where?" Ralph ventured to enquire.

  "To Buckingham Palace. He's going to show me over it, so that I may getsome idea how they live."

  "Ah," said Ralph, "we leave you in good hands. The first thing we shallhear is that you're invited to Windsor Castle."

  "If they ask me, I shall certainly go. Once I get started I'm notafraid. But for all that," Henrietta added in a moment, "I'm notsatisfied; I'm not at peace about Isabel."

  "What is her last misdemeanour?"

  "Well, I've told you before, and I suppose there's no harm in my goingon. I always finish a subject that I take up. Mr. Goodwood was here lastnight."

  Ralph opened his eyes; he even blushed a little--his blush beingthe sign of an emotion somewhat acute. He remembered that Isabel, inseparating from him in Winchester Square, had repudiated his suggestionthat her motive in doing so was the expectation of a visitor at Pratt'sHotel, and it was a new pang to him to have to suspect her of duplicity.On the other hand, he quickly said to himself, what concern was it ofhis that she should have made an appointment with a lover? Had it notbeen thought graceful in every age that young ladies should make amystery of such appointments? Ralph gave Miss Stackpole a diplomaticanswer. "I should have thought that, with the views you expressed to methe other day, this would satisfy you perfectly."

  "That he should come to see her? That was very well, as far as it went.It was a little plot of mine; I let him know that we were in London, andwhen it had been arranged that I should spend the evening out I sent hima word--the word we just utter to the 'wise.' I hoped he would find heralone; I won't pretend I didn't hope that you'd be out of the way. Hecame to see her, but he might as well have stayed away."

  "Isabel was cruel?"--and Ralph's face lighted with the relief of hiscousin's not having shown duplicity.

  "I don't exactly know what passed between them. But she gave him nosatisfaction--she sent him back to America."

  "Poor Mr. Goodwood!" Ralph sighed.

  "Her only idea seems to be to get rid of him," Henrietta went on.

  "Poor Mr. Goodwood!" Ralph repeated. The exclamation, it must beconfessed, was automatic; it failed exactly to express his thoughts,which were taking another line.

  "You don't say that as if you felt it. I don't believe you care."

  "Ah," said Ralph, "you must remember that I don't know this interestingyoung man--that I've never seen him."

  "Well, I shall see him, and I shall tell him not to give up. If I didn'tbelieve Isabel would come round," Miss Stackpole added--"well, I'd giveup myself. I mean I'd give HER up!"