502 THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY. " And who is the young lady?" " A member of the aristocracy ; Lady Flora, Lady Felicia something of that sort." " I am very glad," Isabel said. " It must be a sudden decision." " Sudden enough, I believe ; a courtship of three weeks. It has only just been made public." "I am very glad," Isabel repeated, with' a larger emphasis. She knew her aunt was watching her looking for the signs of some curious emotion, and the desire to prevent her companion from seeing anything of this kind enabled her to speak in the tone of quick satisfaction the tone, almost, of relief. Mrs. Touchett of course followed the tradition that ladies, even married ones, regard the marriage of their old lovers as an offence to themselves. Isabel's first care therefore was to show that however that might be in general, she was not offended now. But meanwhile, as I say, her heart beat faster; and if she sat for some moments thoughtful she presently forgot Mrs. Touchett's observation it was not because she had lost an admirer. Her imagination had traversed half Europe ; it halted, panting, and even trembling a little, in the city of Rome. She figured herself announcing to her husband that Lord Warburton was to lead a bride to the altar, and she was of course not aware how extremely sad she looked while she made this intellectual effort. But at last she collected herself, and said to her aunt " He was sure to do it some time or other." Mrs. Touchett was silent ; then she gave a sharp little shake of the head. " Ah, my dear, you're beyond me ! " she cried, suddenly. They went on with their luncheon in silence ; Isabel felt as if she had heard of Lord Warburton's death. She had known him only as a suitor, and now that was all over. He was dead for poor Pansy ; by Pansy he might have lived. A servant had been hovering about ; at last Mrs. Touchett requested him to leave them alone. She had finished her lunch ; she sat with her hands folded on the edge of the table. " I should iik to ask you three questions," she said to Isabel, when the servant had gone. " Three are a great many." " I can't do with less ; I have been thinking. They are all very good ones." "That's what. I am afraid of. The best questions are the worst," Isabel answered. Mrs. Touchett had pushed back her chair, and Isabel left the table and walked, rather consciously,
