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I dont know where it begins, but I know where it ends. It ended a long time before I got here. Dont you like it over here? asked Mr Touchett with his aged, innocent voice. Well, sir, I havent quite made up my mind what ground I shall take. I feel a good deal cramped. I felt it on the journey from Liverpool to London. Perhaps you were in a crowded carriage, Ralph suggested. Yes, but it was crowded with friendsa party of Americans whose acquaintance I had made upon the steamer; a lovely group from Little Rock, Arkansas. In spite of that I felt crampedI felt something pressing upon me; I couldnt tell what it was. I felt at the very commencement as if I were not going to accord with the atmosphere. But I suppose I shall make my own atmosphere. Thats the true waythen you can breathe. Your surroundings seem very attractive. Ah, we too are a lovely group! said Ralph. Wait a little and youll see. Miss Stackpole showed every disposition to wait and evidently was prepared to make a considerable stay at Gardencourt. She occupied herself in the mornings with literary labour; but in spite of this Isabel spent many hours with her friend, who, once her daily task performed, deprecated, in fact defied, isolation. Isabel speedily found occasion to desire her to desist from celebrating the charms of their common sojourn in print, having discovered, on the second morning of Miss Stackpoles visit, that she was engaged on a letter to the Interviewer, of which the title, in her exquisitely neat and legible hand (exactly that of the copybooks which our heroine remembered at school) was Americans and TudorsGlimpses of Gardencourt. Miss Stackpole, with the best conscience in the world, offered to read her letter to Isabel, who immediately put in her protest. I dont think you ought to do that. I dont think you ought to describe the place. Henrietta gazed at her as usual. Why, its just what the people want, and its a lovely place. Its too lovely to be put in the newspapers, and its not what my uncle wants. Dont you believe that! cried Henrietta. Theyre always delighted afterwards. My uncle wont be delightednor my cousin either. Theyll consider it a breach of hospitality. Miss Stackpole showed no sense of confusion; she simply wiped her pen, very neatly, upon an elegant little implement which she kept for the purpose, and put away her manuscript. Of course if you dont approve I wont do it; but I sacrifice a beautiful subject. There are plenty of other subjects, there are subjects all round you. Well take some drives; Ill show you some charming scenery. Scenerys not my department; I always need a human interest. You know Im deeply human, Isabel; I always was, Miss Stackpole rejoined. I was going to bring in your cousinthe alienated American. Theres a great demand just now for the alienated American, and your cousins a beautiful specimen. I should have handled him severely. He would have died of it! Isabel exclaimed. Not of the severity, but of the publicity. Well, I should have liked to kill him a little. And I should have delighted to do your uncle, who seems to me a much nobler typethe American faithful still. Hes a grand old man; I dont see how he can object to my paying him honour. |
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