The Essential Henry James Collection. Генри Джеймс
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Название: The Essential Henry James Collection

Автор: Генри Джеймс

Издательство: Ingram

Жанр: Контркультура

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isbn: 9781456613761

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СКАЧАТЬ dark blue satin, which exposed a white bosom that was ineffectually covered by a curious silver necklace. Ralph offered her his arm with the exaggerated alertness of a man who was no longer a lover.

      Even if this had still been his condition, however, Ralph had other things to think about. The great doctor spent the night at Gardencourt and, returning to London on the morrow, after another consultation with Mr. Touchett's own medical adviser, concurred in Ralph's desire that he should see the patient again on the day following. On the day following Sir Matthew Hope reappeared at Gardencourt, and now took a less encouraging view of the old man, who had grown worse in the twenty-four hours. His feebleness was extreme, and to his son, who constantly sat by his bedside, it often seemed that his end must be at hand. The local doctor, a very sagacious man, in whom Ralph had secretly more confidence than in his distinguished colleague, was constantly in attendance, and Sir Matthew Hope came back several times. Mr. Touchett was much of the time unconscious; he slept a great deal; he rarely spoke. Isabel had a great desire to be useful to him and was allowed to watch with him at hours when his other attendants (of whom Mrs. Touchett was not the least regular) went to take rest. He never seemed to know her, and she always said to herself "Suppose he should die while I'm sitting here;" an idea which excited her and kept her awake. Once he opened his eyes for a while and fixed them upon her intelligently, but when she went to him, hoping he would recognise her, he closed them and relapsed into stupor. The day after this, however, he revived for a longer time; but on this occasion Ralph only was with him. The old man began to talk, much to his son's satisfaction, who assured him that they should presently have him sitting up.

      "No, my boy," said Mr. Touchett, "not unless you bury me in a sitting posture, as some of the ancients--was it the ancients?-- used to do."

      "Ah, daddy, don't talk about that," Ralph murmured. "You mustn't deny that you're getting better."

      "There will be no need of my denying it if you don't say it," the old man answered. "Why should we prevaricate just at the last? We never prevaricated before. I've got to die some time, and it's better to die when one's sick than when one's well. I'm very sick --as sick as I shall ever be. I hope you don't want to prove that I shall ever be worse than this? That would be too bad. You don't? Well then."

      Having made this excellent point he became quiet; but the next time that Ralph was with him he again addressed himself to conversation. The nurse had gone to her supper and Ralph was alone in charge, having just relieved Mrs. Touchett, who had been on guard since dinner. The room was lighted only by the flickering fire, which of late had become necessary, and Ralph's tall shadow was projected over wall and ceiling with an outline constantly varying but always grotesque.

      "Who's that with me--is it my son?" the old man asked.

      "Yes, it's your son, daddy."

      "And is there no one else?"

      "No one else."

      Mr. Touchett said nothing for a while; and then, "I want to talk a little," he went on.

      "Won't it tire you?" Ralph demurred.

      "It won't matter if it does. I shall have a long rest. I want to talk about YOU."

      Ralph had drawn nearer to the bed; he sat leaning forward with his hand on his father's. "You had better select a brighter topic."

      "You were always bright; I used to be proud of your brightness. I should like so much to think you'd do something."

      "If you leave us," said Ralph, "I shall do nothing but miss you."

      "That's just what I don't want; it's what I want to talk about. You must get a new interest."

      "I don't want a new interest, daddy. I have more old ones than I know what to do with."

      The old man lay there looking at his son; his face was the face of the dying, but his eyes were the eyes of Daniel Touchett. He seemed to be reckoning over Ralph's interests. "Of course you have your mother," he said at last. "You'll take care of her."

      "My mother will always take care of herself," Ralph returned.

      "Well," said his father, "perhaps as she grows older she'll need a little help."

      "I shall not see that. She'll outlive me."

      "Very likely she will; but that's no reason--!" Mr. Touchett let his phrase die away in a helpless but not quite querulous sigh and remained silent again.

      "Don't trouble yourself about us," said his son, "My mother and I get on very well together, you know."

      "You get on by always being apart; that's not natural."

      "If you leave us we shall probably see more of each other."

      "Well," the old man observed with wandering irrelevance, "it can't be said that my death will make much difference in your mother's life."

      "It will probably make more than you think."

      "Well, she'll have more money," said Mr. Touchett. "I've left her a good wife's portion, just as if she had been a good wife."

      "She has been one, daddy, according to her own theory. She has never troubled you."

      "Ah, some troubles are pleasant," Mr. Touchett murmured. "Those you've given me for instance. But your mother has been less-- less--what shall I call it? less out of the way since I've been ill. I presume she knows I've noticed it."

      "I shall certainly tell her so; I'm so glad you mention it."

      "It won't make any difference to her; she doesn't do it to please me. She does it to please--to please--" And he lay a while trying to think why she did it. "She does it because it suits her. But that's not what I want to talk about," he added. "It's about you. You'll be very well off."

      "Yes," said Ralph, "I know that. But I hope you've not forgotten the talk we had a year ago--when I told you exactly what money I should need and begged you to make some good use of the rest."

      "Yes, yes, I remember. I made a new will--in a few days. I suppose it was the first time such a thing had happened--a young man trying to get a will made against him."

      "It is not against me," said Ralph. "It would be against me to have a large property to take care of. It's impossible for a man in my state of health to spend much money, and enough is as good as a feast."

      "Well, you'll have enough--and something over. There will be more than enough for one--there will be enough for two."

      "That's too much," said Ralph.

      "Ah, don't say that. The best thing you can do; when I'm gone, will be to marry."

      Ralph had foreseen what his father was coming to, and this suggestion was by no means fresh. It had long been Mr. Touchett's most ingenious way of taking the cheerful view of his son's possible duration. Ralph had usually treated it facetiously; but present circumstances proscribed the facetious. He simply fell back in his chair and returned his father's appealing gaze.

      "If I, with a wife who hasn't been very fond of me, have had a very happy life," said the old man, carrying his ingenuity further still, "what a life mightn't you have if you should marry a person different СКАЧАТЬ