will be more than enough for one—there will be enough for two."
"That's too much," said Ralph.
"Ah, don't say that. The best thing you can do, when I am gone, will be to marry."
Ralph had foreseen what his father was coming to, and this suggestion was by no means novel. It had long been Mr. Touchett's most ingenious way of expressing the optimistic view of his son's health. Ralph had usually treated it humorously; but present circumstances made the humorous tone impossible. He simply fell back in his chair and returned his father's appealing gaze in silence.
"If I, with a wife who hasn't been very fond of me, have had a very happy life," said the old man, carrying his ingenuity further still, "what a life might you not have, if you should marry a person different from Mrs. Touchett. There are more different from her than there are like her."
Ralph still said nothing; and after a pause his father asked softly—"What do you think of your cousin?"
At this Ralph started, meeting the question with a rather fixed smile. "Do I understand you to propose that I should marry Isabel?"
"Well; that's what it comes to in the end. Don't you like her?"
"Yes, very much." And Ralph got up from his chair and wandered over to the fire. He stood before it an instant and then he stooped and stirred it, mechanically. "I like Isabel very much," he repeated.
"Well," said his father, "I know she likes you. She told me so."
"Did she remark that she would like to marry me?"
