e third
time that he was odious; but the discussion was interrupted by the
arrival of the lady who was the topic of it. She came rustling in
quickly, apologising for being late, fastening a bracelet, dressed in
dark blue satin, which exposed a white bosom that was ineffectually
covered by a curious silver necklace. Ralph offered her his arm with the
exaggerated alertness of a man who was no longer a lover.

Even if this had still been his condition, however, Ralph had other
things to think about. The great doctor spent the night at Gardencourt
and, returning to London on the morrow, after another consultation with
Mr. Touchett's own medical adviser, concurred in Ralph's desire that he
should see the patient again on the day following. On the day following
Sir Matthew Hope reappeared at Gardencourt, and now took a less
encouraging view of the old man, who had grown worse in the twenty-four
hours. His feebleness was extreme, and to his son, who constantly sat
by his bedside, it often seemed that his end must be at hand. The local
doctor, a very sagacious man, in whom Ralph had secretly more confidence
than in his distinguished colleague, was constantly in attendance, and
Sir Matthew Hope came back several times. Mr. Touchett was much of the
time unconscious; he slept a great deal; he rarely spoke. Isabel had a
great desire to be useful to him and was allowed to watch with him at
hours when his other attendants (of whom Mrs. Touchett was not the least
regular) went to take rest. He never seemed to know her, and she always
said to herself "Suppose he should die while I'm sitting here;" an idea
which excited her and kept her awake. Once he opened his eyes for a
while and fixed them upon her intelligently, but when she went to him,
hoping he would recognise her, he closed them and relapsed into stupor.
The day after this, however, he revived for a longer time; but on this
occasion Ralph only was with him. The old man began to talk, much to his
son's satisfaction, who assured him that they should presently have him
sitting up.

"No, my boy," said Mr. Touchett, "not unless you bury me in a sitting
posture, as some of the ancients--was it the ancients?--used to do."

"Ah, daddy, don't talk about that," Ralph murmured. "You mustn't deny
that you're getting better."

"There will be no need of my denying it if you don't say it," the old
man answered. "Why should we prevaricate just at the last? We never
prevaricated before. I'v