Page 644 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

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 de-
sire 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, smil-
ing 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 Count-
ess 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?’

644 The Portrait of a Lady