The Golden Bowl Henry James (spicy books to read txt) đ
- Author: Henry James
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âSophisticated as I may appearââ âit was her frequent phraseâ âshe had found sympathy her best resource. It gave her plenty to do; it made her, as she also said, sit up. She had in her life two great holes to fill, and she described herself as dropping social scraps into them as she had known old ladies, in her early American time, drop morsels of silk into the baskets in which they collected the material for some eventual patchwork quilt.
One of these gaps in Mrs. Assinghamâs completeness was her want of children; the other was her want of wealth. It was wonderful how little either, in the fullness of time, came to show; sympathy and curiosity could render their objects practically filial, just as an English husband who in his military years had ârunâ everything in his regiment could make economy blossom like the rose. Colonel Bob had, a few years after his marriage, left the army, which had clearly, by that time, done its laudable all for the enrichment of his personal experience, and he could thus give his whole time to the gardening in question. There reigned among the younger friends of this couple a legend, almost too venerable for historical criticism, that the marriage itself, the happiest of its class, dated from the far twilight of the age, a primitive period when such thingsâ âsuch things as American girls accepted as âgood enoughââ âhad not begun to be;â âso that the pleasant pair had been, as to the risk taken on either side, bold and original, honourably marked, for the evening of life, as discoverers of a kind of hymeneal Northwest Passage. Mrs. Assingham knew better, knew there had been no historic hour, from that of Pocahontas down, when some young Englishman hadnât precipitately believed and some American girl hadnât, with a few more gradations, availed herself to the full of her incapacity to doubt; but she accepted resignedly the laurel of the founder, since she was in fact pretty well the doyenne, above ground, of her transplanted tribe, and since, above all, she had invented combinations, though she had not invented Bobâs own. It was he who had done that, absolutely puzzled it out, by himself, from his first odd glimmer-resting upon it moreover, through the years to come, as proof enough, in him, by itself, of the higher cleverness. If she kept her own cleverness up it was largely that he should have full credit. There were moments in truth when she privately felt how littleâ âstriking out as he had doneâ âhe could have afforded that she should show the common limits. But Mrs. Assinghamâs cleverness was in truth tested when her present visitor at last said to her: âI donât think, you know, that youâre treating me quite right. Youâve something on your mind that you donât tell me.â
It was positive too that her smile, in reply, was a trifle dim. âAm I obliged to tell you everything I have on my mind?â
âIt isnât a question of everything, but itâs a question of anything that may particularly concern me. Then you shouldnât keep it back. You know with what care I desire to proceed, taking everything into account and making no mistake that may possibly injure her.â
Mrs. Assingham, at this, had after an instant an odd interrogation. âââHerâ?â
âHer and him. Both our friends. Either Maggie or her father.â
âI have something on my mind,â Mrs. Assingham presently returned; âsomething has happened for which I hadnât been prepared. But it isnât anything that properly concerns you.â
The Prince, with immediate gaiety, threw back his head. âWhat do you mean by âproperlyâ? I somehow see volumes in it. Itâs the way people put a thing when they put itâ âwell, wrong. I put things right. What is it that has happened for me?â
His hostess, the next moment, had drawn spirit from his tone.
âOh, I shall be delighted if youâll take your share of it. Charlotte Stant is in London. She has just been here.â
âMiss Stant? Oh really?â The Prince expressed clear surpriseâ âa transparency through which his eyes met his friendâs with a certain hardness of concussion. âShe has arrived from America?â he then quickly asked.
âShe appears to have arrived this noonâ âcoming up from Southampton; at an hotel. She dropped upon me after luncheon and was here for more than an hour.â
The young man heard with interest, though not with an interest too great for his gaiety. âYou think then Iâve a share in it? What is my share?â
âWhy, any you likeâ âthe one you seemed just now eager to take. It was you yourself who insisted.â
He looked at her on this with conscious inconsistency, and she could now see that he had changed colour. But he was always easy.
âI didnât know then what the matter was.â
âYou didnât think it could be so bad?â
âDo you call it very bad?â the young man asked. âOnly,â she smiled, âbecause thatâs the way it seems to affect you.â
He hesitated, still with the trace of his quickened
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