Mrs. Touchett hesitated a moment. "You can try him," she said. And then she offered to conduct Isabel to her room. "I thought they had taken you there; but it's not my house, it's Ralph's; and I don't know what they do. They must at least have taken your luggage; I don't suppose you have brought much. Not that I care, however. I believe they have given you the same room you had before; when Ralph heard you were coming he said you must have that one."
"Did he say anything else?"
"Ah, my dear, he doesn't chatter as he used!" cried Mrs. Touchett, as she preceded her niece up the staircase.
It was the same room, and something told Isabel that it had not been slept in since she occupied it. Her luggage was there, and it was not voluminous; Mrs. Touchett sat down a moment, with her eyes upon it.
"Is there really no hope?" Isabel asked, standing before her aunt.
"None whatever. There never has been. It has not been a successful life."
"No—it has only been a beautiful one." Isabel found herself already contradicting her aunt; she was irritated by her dryness.
"I don't know what you mean by that; there is no beauty without health. That is a very odd dress to travel in."
Isabel glanced at her garment. " I left Rome at an hour's notice; I took the first that came."
"Your sisters, in America, wished to know how you dress. That seemed to be their principal interest. I wasn't able to tell them but they seemed to have the right idea: that you never wear anything less than black brocade."
"They think I am more brilliant than I am; I am afraid to
