If
Ralph had been kept alive by suspense it was with a good deal of the
same emotion-the excitement of wondering in what state she should find
him-that Isabel mounted to his apartment the day after Lord
Warburton had notified her of his arrival in Rome.
She spent an hour with him; it was the first of several visits.
Gilbert Osmond called on him punctually, and on their sending their
carriage for him Ralph came more than once to Palazzo Roccanera. A
fortnight elapsed, at the end of which Ralph announced to Lord
Warburton that he thought after all he wouldn't go to Sicily. The
two men had been dining together after a day spent by the latter in
ranging about the Campagna. They had left the table, and Warburton,
before the chimney, was lighting a cigar, which he instantly removed
from his lips.
"Won't go to Sicily? Where then will you go?"
"Well, I guess I won't go anywhere," said Ralph, from the sofa,
all shamelessly.
"Do you mean you'll return to England?"
"Oh dear no; I'll stay in Rome."
"Rome won't do for you. Rome's not warm enough."
"It will have to do. I'll make it do. See how well I've been."
Lord Warburton looked at him a while, puffing a cigar and as if
trying to see it.
Pages:
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693