might take toward marriage. One's cousin always pretended to hate
one's husband; that was traditional, classical; it was a part of
one's cousin's always pretending to adore one. Ralph was nothing
if not critical; and though she would certainly, other things
being equal, have been as glad to marry to please him as to
please any one, it would be absurd to regard as important that
her choice should square with his views. What were his views
after all? He had pretended to believe she had better have
married Lord Warburton; but this was only because she had refused
that excellent man. If she had accepted him Ralph would certainly
have taken another tone; he always took the opposite. You could
criticise any marriage; it was the essence of a marriage to be
open to criticism. How well she herself, should she only give her
mind to it, might criticise this union of her own! She had other
employment, however, and Ralph was welcome to relieve her of the
care. Isabel was prepared to be most patient and most indulgent.
He must have seen that, and this made it the more odd he should
say nothing. After three days had elapsed without his speaking
our young woman wearied of waiting; dislike it as he would, he
might at least go through the form. We, who know more about poor
Ralph than his cousin, may easily believe that during the hours
that followed his arrival at Palazzo Crescentini he had privately
gone through many forms. His mother had literally greeted him
with the great news, which had been even more sensibly chilling
than Mrs. Touchett's maternal kiss. Ralph was shocked and
humiliated; his calculations had been false and the person in the
world in whom he was most interested was lost. He drifted about
the house like a rudderless vessel in a rocky stream, or sat in
the garden of the palace on a great cane chair, his long legs
extended, his head thrown back and his hat pulled over his eyes.