Page:The Portrait of a Lady (1882).djvu/82

74 74 THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY. letter." She was a thoroughly good-natured -woman, and half an hour later she was in as cheerful a mood as should have been looked for in a newspaper-correspondent in want of material. " I have promised to do the social side," she said to Isabel ; " and how can I do it unless I get ideas 1 If I can't describe this place, don't you know some place I can describe 1 " Isabel promised she would bethink herself, and the next day, in con- versation with her friend, she happened to mention her visit to Lord Warburton's ancient house. " Ah, you must take me there that is just the place for me ! " Miss Stackpole exclaimed. " I must get a glimpse of the nobility." "I can't take you," said Isabel; "but Lord Warburton is coming here, and you will have a chance to see him and observe him. Only if you intend to repeat his conversation, I shall certainly give him warning." " Don't do that," her companion begged ; "I want him to be natural." " An Englishman is never so natural as when he is holding his tongue," Isabel rejoined. It was not apparent, at the end of three days, that his cousin had fallen in love with their visitor, though he had spent a good deal of time in her society. They strolled about the park together, and sat under the trees, and in the afternoon, when it was delightful to float along the Thames, Miss Stackpole occupied a place in the boat in which hitherto Ralph had had but a single companion. Her society had a less insoluble quality than Ralph had expected in the natural perturbation of his sense of the perfect adequacy of that of his cousin ; for the corre- spondent of the Interviewer made him laugh a good deal, and he had long since decided that abundant laughter should be the embellishment of the remainder of his days. Henrietta, on her side, did not quite justify Isabel's declaration with regard to her indifference to masculine opinion ; for poor Ralph appeared to have presented himself to her as an irritating problem, which it would be superficial on her part not to solve. " What does he do for a living 1 " she asked of Isabel, the evening of her arrival. " Does he go round all day with his hands in his pockets ? " " He does nothing," said Isabel, smiling ; "he's a gentleman of leisure." " Well, I call that a shame when I have to work like a cotton- mill," Miss Stackpole replied. " I should like to show him up." " He is in wretched health ; he is quite unfit for work," Isabel urged.