red; on the contrary, she has enjoyed.
Osmond's marriage has given his daughter a great little lift. Before
that she lived in a hole. And do you know what the mother thought? That
you might take such a fancy to the child that you'd do something for
her. Osmond of course could never give her a portion. Osmond was really
extremely poor; but of course you know all about that. Ah, my dear,"
cried the Countess, "why did you ever inherit money?" She stopped a
moment as if she saw something singular in Isabel's face. "Don't tell
me now that you'll give her a dot. You're capable of that, but I would
refuse to believe it. Don't try to be too good. Be a little easy and
natural and nasty; feel a little wicked, for the comfort of it, once in
your life!"

"It's very strange. I suppose I ought to know, but I'm sorry," Isabel
said. "I'm much obliged to you."

"Yes, you seem to be!" cried the Countess with a mocking laugh.
"Perhaps you are--perhaps you're not. You don't take it as I should have
thought."

"How should I take it?" Isabel asked.

"Well, I should say as a woman who has been made use of." Isabel made
no answer to this; she only listened, and the Countess went on. "They've
always been bound to each other; they remained so even after she broke
off--or HE did. But he has always been more for her than she has been
for him. When their little carnival was over they made a bargain that
each should give the other complete liberty, but that each should also
do everything possible to help the other on. You may ask me how I know
such a thing as that. I know it by the way they've behaved. Now see how
much better women are than men! She has found a wife for Osmond, but
Osmond has never lifted a little finger for HER. She has worked for him,
plotted for him, suffered for him; she has even more than once found
money for him; and the end of it is that he's tired of her. She's an old
habit; there are moments when he needs her, but on the whole he wouldn't
miss her if she were removed. And, what's more, today she knows it. So
you needn't be jealous!" the Countess added humorously.

Isabel rose from her sofa again; she felt bruised and scant of breath;
her head was humming with new knowledge. "I'm much obliged to you," she
repeated. And then she added abruptly, in quite a different tone: "How
do you know all this?"

This enquiry appeared to ruffle the Countess more than Isabel's
expression of gratitude pleased her. She gave her compani