me--that's what I'm afraid of!"

"Well, if Osmond isn't amusing himself--in his own old way--I flatter
myself I shall discover it," the Countess rejoined.

"I don't care for that," said Henrietta.

"I do immensely! If Isabel's unhappy I'm very sorry for her, but I can't
help it. I might tell her something that would make her worse, but I
can't tell her anything that would console her. What did she go and
marry him for? If she had listened to me she'd have got rid of him. I'll
forgive her, however, if I find she has made things hot for him! If she
has simply allowed him to trample upon her I don't know that I shall
even pity her. But I don't think that's very likely. I count upon
finding that if she's miserable she has at least made HIM so."

Henrietta got up; these seemed to her, naturally, very dreadful
expectations. She honestly believed she had no desire to see Mr. Osmond
unhappy; and indeed he could not be for her the subject of a flight of
fancy. She was on the whole rather disappointed in the Countess, whose
mind moved in a narrower circle than she had imagined, though with a
capacity for coarseness even there. "It will be better if they love each
other," she said for edification.

"They can't. He can't love any one."

"I presumed that was the case. But it only aggravates my fear for
Isabel. I shall positively start to-morrow."

"Isabel certainly has devotees," said the Countess, smiling very
vividly. "I declare I don't pity her."

"It may be I can't assist her," Miss Stackpole pursued, as if it were
well not to have illusions.

"You can have wanted to, at any rate; that's something. I believe that's
what you came from America for," the Countess suddenly added.

"Yes, I wanted to look after her," Henrietta said serenely.

Her hostess stood there smiling at her with small bright eyes and an
eager-looking nose; with cheeks into each of which a flush had come.
"Ah, that's very pretty c'est bien gentil! Isn't it what they call
friendship?"

"I don't know what they call it. I thought I had better come."

"She's very happy--she's very fortunate," the Countess went on. "She
has others besides." And then she broke out passionately. "She's more
fortunate than I! I'm as unhappy as she--I've a very bad husband; he's a
great deal worse than Osmond. And I've no friends. I thought I had, but
they're gone. No one, man or woman, would do for me what you've done for
her."

Henrietta was touched; there was nature