seigneur. He's
making love to Isabel."

"Making love to her?"

"So I'm told; I don't know the details," said the Countess lightly. "But
Isabel's pretty safe."

Henrietta gazed earnestly at her companion; for a moment she said
nothing. "When do you go to Rome?" she enquired abruptly.

"Not for a week, I'm afraid."

"I shall go to-morrow," Henrietta said. "I think I had better not wait."

"Dear me, I'm sorry; I'm having some dresses made. I'm told Isabel
receives immensely. But I shall see you there; I shall call on you
at your pension." Henrietta sat still--she was lost in thought; and
suddenly the Countess cried: "Ah, but if you don't go with me you can't
describe our journey!"

Miss Stackpole seemed unmoved by this consideration; she was thinking
of something else and presently expressed it. "I'm not sure that I
understand you about Lord Warburton."

"Understand me? I mean he's very nice, that's all."

"Do you consider it nice to make love to married women?" Henrietta
enquired with unprecedented distinctness.

The Countess stared, and then with a little violent laugh: "It's certain
all the nice men do it. Get married and you'll see!" she added.

"That idea would be enough to prevent me," said Miss Stackpole. "I
should want my own husband; I shouldn't want any one else's. Do you mean
that Isabel's guilty--guilty--?" And she paused a little, choosing her
expression.

"Do I mean she's guilty? Oh dear no, not yet, I hope. I only mean that
Osmond's very tiresome and that Lord Warburton, as I hear, is a great
deal at the house. I'm afraid you're scandalised."

"No, I'm just anxious," Henrietta said.

"Ah, you're not very complimentary to Isabel! You should have more
confidence. I'll tell you," the Countess added quickly: "if it will be a
comfort to you I engage to draw him off."

Miss Stackpole answered at first only with the deeper solemnity of her
gaze. "You don't understand me," she said after a while. "I haven't the
idea you seem to suppose. I'm not afraid for Isabel--in that way. I'm
only afraid she's unhappy--that's what I want to get at."

The Countess gave a dozen turns of the head; she looked impatient and
sarcastic. "That may very well be; for my part I should like to know
whether Osmond is." Miss Stackpole had begun a little to bore her.

"If she's really changed that must be at the bottom of it," Henrietta
went on.

"You'll see; she'll tell you," said the Countess.

"Ah, she may NOT tell