His mother had literally greeted him with the great news, which
had been even more sensibly chilling than Mrs. Touchett's maternal
kiss. Ralph was shocked and humiliated; his calculations had been
false and the person in the world in whom he was most interested was
lost. He drifted about the house like a rudderless vessel in a rocky
stream, or sat in the garden of the palace on a great cane chair,
his long legs extended, his head thrown back and his hat pulled over
his eyes. He felt cold about the heart; he had never liked anything
less. What could he do, what could he say? If the girl were
irreclaimable could he pretend to like it? To attempt to reclaim her
was permissible only if the attempt should succeed. To try to persuade
her of anything sordid or sinister in the man to whose deep art she
had succumbed would be decently discreet only in the event of her
being persuaded. Otherwise he should simply have damned himself. It
cost him an equal effort to speak his thought and to dissemble; he
could neither assent with sincerity nor protest with hope. Meanwhile
he knew-or rather he supposed-that the affianced pair were daily
renewing their mutual vows.
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