"Do I understand you to propose that I should marry Isabel?"
"Well, that's what it comes to in the end. Don't you like Isabel?"
"Yes, very much." And Ralph got up from his chair and wandered
over to the fire. He stood before it an instant and then he stooped
and stirred it mechanically.
"I like Isabel very much," he repeated.
"Well," said his father, "I know she likes you. She has told me
how much she likes you."
"Did she remark that she would like to marry me?"
"No, but she can't have anything against you. And she's the most
charming young lady I've ever seen. And she would be good to you. I
have thought a great deal about it."
"So have I," said Ralph, coming back to the bedside again. "I
don't mind telling you that."
"You are in love with her then? I should think you would be. It's as
if she came over on purpose."
"No, I'm not in love with her; but I should be if- if certain things
were different."
"Ah, things are always different from what they might be," said
the old man. "If you wait for them to change you'll never do anything.
I don't know whether you know," he went on; "but I suppose there's
no harm in my alluding to it at such an hour as this: there was some
one wanted to marry Isabel the other day, and she wouldn't have him.
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