She wished to speak to some one; she should feel more
natural, more human, and her uncle, for this purpose, presented
himself in a more attractive light than either her aunt or her
friend Henrietta. Her cousin of course was a possible confidant; but
she would have had to do herself violence to air this special secret
to Ralph. So the next day, after breakfast, she sought her occasion.
Her uncle never left his apartment till the afternoon, but he received
his cronies, as he said, in his dressing-room. Isabel had quite
taken her place in the class so designated, which, for the rest,
included the old man's son, his physician, his personal servant, and
even Miss Stackpole. Mrs. Touchett did not figure in the list, and
this was an obstacle the less to Isabel's finding her host alone. He
sat in a complicated mechanical chair, at the open window of his room,
looking westward over the park and the river, with his newspapers
and letters piled up beside him, his toilet freshly and minutely made,
and his smooth, speculative face composed to benevolent expectation.
She approached her point directly. "I think I ought to let you
know that Lord Warburton has asked me to marry him.
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