Deep in
her breast she believed that he had invested his all in her happiness,
while the others had invested only a part. He was one more person from
whom she should have to conceal her stress. She was reassured,
however, after he arrived in Rome, for he spent several days without
coming to see her.
Henrietta Stackpole, it may well be imagined, was much more
punctual, and Isabel was largely favoured with the society of her
friend. She threw herself into it, for now that she had made such a
point of keeping her conscience clear, that was one way of proving she
had not been superficial-the more so as the years, in their flight,
had rather enriched than blighted those peculiarities which had been
humorously criticized by persons less interested than Isabel, and
which were still marked enough to give loyalty a spice of heroism.
Henrietta was as keen and quick and fresh as ever, and as neat and
bright and fair. Her remarkably open eyes, lighted like great glazed
railway-stations, had put up no shutters; her attire had lost none
of its crispness, her opinions none of their national reference. She
was by no means quite unchanged, however; it struck Isabel she had
grown vague.
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