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.