. Osmond gave no sound
and now evidently would give none; he would leave it all to her. From
Pansy she heard nothing, but that was very simple: her father had told
her not to write.

Mrs. Touchett accepted Isabel's company, but offered her no assistance;
she appeared to be absorbed in considering, without enthusiasm but
with perfect lucidity, the new conveniences of her own situation. Mrs.
Touchett was not an optimist, but even from painful occurrences she
managed to extract a certain utility. This consisted in the reflexion
that, after all, such things happened to other people and not to
herself. Death was disagreeable, but in this case it was her son's
death, not her own; she had never flattered herself that her own would
be disagreeable to any one but Mrs. Touchett. She was better off than
poor Ralph, who had left all the commodities of life behind him,
and indeed all the security; since the worst of dying was, to Mrs.
Touchett's mind, that it exposed one to be taken advantage of. For
herself she was on the spot; there was nothing so good as that. She
made known to Isabel very punctually--it was the evening her son was
buried--several of Ralph's testamentary arrangements. He had told her
everything, had consulted her about everything. He left her no money;
of course she had no need of money. He left her the furniture of
Gardencourt, exclusive of the pictures and books and the use of the
place for a year; after which it was to be sold. The money produced by
the sale was to constitute an endowment for a hospital for poor persons
suffering from the malady of which he died; and of this portion of the
will Lord Warburton was appointed executor. The rest of his property,
which was to be withdrawn from the bank, was disposed of in various
bequests, several of them to those cousins in Vermont to whom his
father had already been so bountiful. Then there were a number of small
legacies.

"Some of them are extremely peculiar," said Mrs. Touchett; "he has left
considerable sums to persons I never heard of. He gave me a list, and I
asked then who some of them were, and he told me they were people who at
various times had seemed to like him. Apparently he thought you didn't
like him, for he hasn't left you a penny. It was his opinion that you
had been handsomely treated by his father, which I'm bound to say I
think you were--though I don't mean that I ever heard him complain of
it. The pictures are to be dispersed; he has distri