instead of one, inasmuch as Mr. Goodwood, who had been of no earthly
use, was quite as ailing, in a different way, as Mr. Touchett.
Afterwards she wrote that she had been obliged to surrender the field to
Mrs. Touchett, who had just returned from America and had promptly given
her to understand that she didn't wish any interviewing at Gardencourt.
Isabel had written to her aunt shortly after Ralph came to Rome, letting
her know of his critical condition and suggesting that she should
lose no time in returning to Europe. Mrs. Touchett had telegraphed an
acknowledgement of this admonition, and the only further news Isabel
received from her was the second telegram I have just quoted.

Isabel stood a moment looking at the latter missive; then, thrusting it
into her pocket, she went straight to the door of her husband's study.
Here she again paused an instant, after which she opened the door and
went in. Osmond was seated at the table near the window with a folio
volume before him, propped against a pile of books. This volume was open
at a page of small coloured plates, and Isabel presently saw that he
had been copying from it the drawing of an antique coin. A box of
water-colours and fine brushes lay before him, and he had already
transferred to a sheet of immaculate paper the delicate, finely-tinted
disk. His back was turned toward the door, but he recognised his wife
without looking round.

"Excuse me for disturbing you," she said.

"When I come to your room I always knock," he answered, going on with
his work.

"I forgot; I had something else to think of. My cousin's dying."

"Ah, I don't believe that," said Osmond, looking at his drawing through
a magnifying glass. "He was dying when we married; he'll outlive us
all."

Isabel gave herself no time, no thought, to appreciate the careful
cynicism of this declaration; she simply went on quickly, full of
her own intention "My aunt has telegraphed for me; I must go to
Gardencourt."

"Why must you go to Gardencourt?" Osmond asked in the tone of impartial
curiosity.

"To see Ralph before he dies."

To this, for some time, he made no rejoinder; he continued to give his
chief attention to his work, which was of a sort that would brook no
negligence. "I don't see the need of it," he said at last. "He came to
see you here. I didn't like that; I thought his being in Rome a great
mistake. But I tolerated it because it was to be the last time you
should see him. Now you te