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.
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