‘I found her in an old house at Albany, sitting in a dreary room on a rainy day, reading a heavy book and boring herself to death. She didn’t know she was bored, but when I left her no doubt of it she seemed very grateful for the service. You may say I shouldn’t have enlightened her—I should have let her alone. There’s a good deal in that, but I acted conscientiously; I thought she was meant for something better. It occurred to me that it would be a kindness to take her about and introduce her to the world. She thinks she knows a great deal of it—like most American girls; but like most American girls she’s ridiculously mistaken. If you want to know, I thought she would do me credit. I like to be well thought of, and for a woman of my age there’s no greater convenience, in some ways, than an attractive niece. You know I had seen nothing of my sister’s children for years; I disapproved entirely of the father. But I always meant to do something for them when he should have gone to his reward. I ascertained where they were to be found and, without any preliminaries, went and introduced myself. There are two others of them, both of whom are married; but I saw only the elder, who has, by the way, a very uncivil husband. The wife, whose name is Lily, jumped at the idea of my taking an interest in Isabel; she said it was just what her sister needed—that some one should take an interest in her. She spoke of her as you might speak of some young person of genius—in want of encouragement and patronage. It may be that Isabel’s a genius; but in that case I’ve not yet learned her special line. Mrs Ludlow was especially keen about my taking her to Europe; they all regard Europe over there as a land of emigration, of rescue, a refuge for their superfluous population. Isabel herself seemed very glad to come, and the thing was easily arranged. There was a little difficulty about the money-question, as she seemed averse to being under pecuniary obligations. But she has a small income and she supposes herself to be travelling at her own expense.’

Ralph had listened attentively to this judicious report, by which his interest in the subject of it was not impaired. ‘Ah, if she’s a genius,’ he said, ‘we must find out her special line. Is it by chance for flirting?’

‘I don’t think so. You may suspect that at first, but you’ll be wrong. You won’t, I think, in anyway, be easily right about her.’

‘Warburton’s wrong then!’ Ralph rejoicingly exclaimed. ‘He flatters himself he has made that discovery.’

His mother shook her head. ‘Lord Warburton won’t understand her. He needn’t try.’

‘He’s very intelligent,’ said Ralph; ‘but it’s right he should be puzzled once in a while.’

‘Isabel will enjoy puzzling a lord,’ Mrs Touchett remarked.

Her son frowned a little. ‘What does she know about lords?’

‘Nothing at all: that will puzzle him all the more.’

Ralph greeted these words with a laugh and looked out of the window. Then, ‘Are you not going down to see my father?’ he asked.

‘At a quarter to eight,’ said Mrs Touchett.

Her son looked at his watch. ‘You’ve another quarter of an hour then. Tell me some more about Isabel.’ After which, as Mrs Touchett declined his invitation, declaring that he must find out for himself, ‘Well,’ he pursued, ‘she’ll certainly do you credit. But won’t she also give you trouble?’

‘I hope not; but if she does I shall not shrink from it. I never do that.’

‘She strikes me as very natural,’ said Ralph.

‘Natural people are not the most trouble.’