en, on his side, most
anxious to make to me. I was the companion of all others whom he most
sincerely longed to secure for his wife, and he begged me to believe
that I had conferred a lasting favour on him by making the proposal to
live with Laura after her marriage, exactly as I had always lived with
her before it.

When I had thanked him in her name and mine for his considerate
kindness to both of us, we passed next to the subject of his wedding
tour, and began to talk of the English society in Rome to which Laura
was to be introduced. He ran over the names of several friends whom he
expected to meet abroad this winter. They were all English, as well as
I can remember, with one exception. The one exception was Count Fosco.

The mention of the Count's name, and the discovery that he and his wife
are likely to meet the bride and bridegroom on the continent, puts
Laura's marriage, for the first time, in a distinctly favourable light.
It is likely to be the means of healing a family feud. Hitherto Madame
Fosco has chosen to forget her obligations as Laura's aunt out of sheer
spite against the late Mr. Fairlie for his conduct in the affair of the
legacy. Now however, she can persist in this course of conduct no
longer. Sir Percival and Count Fosco are old and fast friends, and
their wives will have no choice but to meet on civil terms. Madame
Fosco in her maiden days was one of the most impertinent women I ever
met with--capricious, exacting, and vain to the last degree of
absurdity. If her husband has succeeded in bringing her to her senses,
he deserves the gratitude of every member of the family, and he may
have mine to begin with.

I am becoming anxious to know the Count. He is the most intimate
friend of Laura's husband, and in that capacity he excites my strongest
interest. Neither Laura nor I have ever seen him. All I know of him
is that his accidental presence, years ago, on the steps of the Trinita
del Monte at Rome, assisted Sir Percival's escape from robbery and
assassination at the critical moment when he was wounded in the hand,
and might the next instant have been wounded in the heart. I remember
also that, at the time of the late Mr. Fairlie's absurd objections to
his sister's marriage, the Count wrote him a very temperate and
sensible letter on the subject, which, I am ashamed to say, remained
unanswered. This is all I know of Sir Percival's friend. I wonder if
he will ever come to England?