buted them about, one
by one, as little keepsakes. The most valuable of the collection goes to
Lord Warburton. And what do you think he has done with his library?
It sounds like a practical joke. He has left it to your friend Miss
Stackpole--'in recognition of her services to literature.' Does he mean
her following him up from Rome? Was that a service to literature? It
contains a great many rare and valuable books, and as she can't carry
it about the world in her trunk he recommends her to sell it at auction.
She will sell it of course at Christie's, and with the proceeds she'll
set up a newspaper. Will that be a service to literature?"

This question Isabel forbore to answer, as it exceeded the little
interrogatory to which she had deemed it necessary to submit on her
arrival. Besides, she had never been less interested in literature than
to-day, as she found when she occasionally took down from the shelf one
of the rare and valuable volumes of which Mrs. Touchett had spoken. She
was quite unable to read; her attention had never been so little at her
command. One afternoon, in the library, about a week after the ceremony
in the churchyard, she was trying to fix it for an hour; but her eyes
often wandered from the book in her hand to the open window, which
looked down the long avenue. It was in this way that she saw a modest
vehicle approach the door and perceived Lord Warburton sitting, in
rather an uncomfortable attitude, in a corner of it. He had always had
a high standard of courtesy, and it was therefore not remarkable, under
the circumstances, that he should have taken the trouble to come down
from London to call on Mrs. Touchett. It was of course Mrs. Touchett
he had come to see, and not Mrs. Osmond; and to prove to herself the
validity of this thesis Isabel presently stepped out of the house and
wandered away into the park. Since her arrival at Gardencourt she
had been but little out of doors, the weather being unfavourable for
visiting the grounds. This evening, however, was fine, and at first it
struck her as a happy thought to have come out. The theory I have just
mentioned was plausible enough, but it brought her little rest, and
if you had seen her pacing about you would have said she had a bad
conscience. She was not pacified when at the end of a quarter of an
hour, finding herself in view of the house, she saw Mrs. Touchett emerge
from the portico accompanied by her visitor. Her aunt had evidently
propose