s, like a moorland seen in the
winter twilight. But she was to cross it yet.

CHAPTER XXX

She returned on the morrow to Florence, under her cousin's escort, and
Ralph Touchett, though usually restive under railway discipline, thought
very well of the successive hours passed in the train that hurried
his companion away from the city now distinguished by Gilbert Osmond's
preference--hours that were to form the first stage in a larger scheme
of travel. Miss Stackpole had remained behind; she was planning a little
trip to Naples, to be carried out with Mr. Bantling's aid. Isabel was
to have three days in Florence before the 4th of June, the date of Mrs.
Touchett's departure, and she determined to devote the last of these
to her promise to call on Pansy Osmond. Her plan, however, seemed for
a moment likely to modify itself in deference to an idea of Madame
Merle's. This lady was still at Casa Touchett; but she too was on the
point of leaving Florence, her next station being an ancient castle
in the mountains of Tuscany, the residence of a noble family of that
country, whose acquaintance (she had known them, as she said, "forever")
seemed to Isabel, in the light of certain photographs of their immense
crenellated dwelling which her friend was able to show her, a precious
privilege. She mentioned to this fortunate woman that Mr. Osmond had
asked her to take a look at his daughter, but didn't mention that he had
also made her a declaration of love.

"Ah, comme cela se trouve!" Madame Merle exclaimed. "I myself have been
thinking it would be a kindness to pay the child a little visit before I
go off."

"We can go together then," Isabel reasonably said: "reasonably" because
the proposal was not uttered in the spirit of enthusiasm. She had
prefigured her small pilgrimage as made in solitude; she should like
it better so. She was nevertheless prepared to sacrifice this mystic
sentiment to her great consideration for her friend.

That personage finely meditated. "After all, why should we both go;
having, each of us, so much to do during these last hours?"

"Very good; I can easily go alone."

"I don't know about your going alone--to the house of a handsome
bachelor. He has been married--but so long ago!"

Isabel stared. "When Mr. Osmond's away what does it matter?"

"They don't know he's away, you see."

"They? Whom do you mean?"

"Every one. But perhaps it doesn't signify."

"If you were going why shouldn't I?"