Emilia had not been left by Mr. Powys without the protection of a woman’s society in her singular position.  Lady Charlotte’s natural prompt kindness required no spur from her friend that she should go and brace up the spirits of a little woman, whom she pitied doubly for loving a man who was deceiving her, and not loving one who was good for her.  She went frequently to Emilia, and sat with her in the sombre hotel drawing-room.  Still, frank as she was and blunt as she affected to be, she could not bring her tongue to speak of Wilfrid.  If she had fancied any sensitive shuddering from the name and the subject to exist, she would have struck boldly, being capable of cruelty and, where she was permitted to see a weakness, rather fond of striking deep.  A belief in the existence of Emilia’s courage touched her to compassion.  One day, however, she said, “What is it you take to in Merthyr Powys?” and this brought on plain speaking.

Emilia could give no reason; and it is a peculiarity of people who ask such questions that they think a want of directness in the answer suspicious.

Lady Charlotte said gravely, “Come, come!”

“What do you mean?” asked Emilia.  “I like so many things in him.”

“You don’t like one thing chiefly?”

“I like—­what do I like?—­his kindness.”

“His kindness!” This was the sort of reply to make the lady implacable.  She seldom read others shrewdly, and could not know, that near her, Emilia thought of Wilfrid in a way that made the vault of her brain seem to echo with jarred chords.  “His kindness!  What a picture is the ‘grateful girl!’ I have seen rows of white-capped charity children giving a bob and a sniffle as the parson went down the ranks promising buns.  Well! his kindness!  You are right in appreciating as much as you can see.  I’ll tell you why I like him;—­because he is a gentleman.  And you haven’t got an idea how rare that animal is.  Dear me!  Should I be plainer to you if I called him a Christian gentleman?  It’s the cant of a detestable school, my child.  It means just this—­but why should I disturb your future faith in it?  The professors mainly profess to be ’a comfort to young women,’ and I suppose you will meet your comfort, and worship them with the ‘growing mind;’ and I must confess that they bait it rather cunningly; nothing else would bite.  They catch almost all the raw boys who have anything in them.  But for me, Merthyr himself would have been caught long ago.  There’s no absolute harm in them, only that they’re a sentimental compromise.  I deny their honesty; and if it’s flatly proved, I deny their intelligence.  Well! this you can’t understand.”

“I have not understood you at all,” said Emilia.

“No?  It’s the tongue that’s the natural traitor to a woman, and takes longer runs with every added year.  I suppose you know that Mr. Powys wishes to send you to Italy?”

“I do,” said Emilia.

“When are you going?”