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261 THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY. 261 a .keenly-glancing, quickly-moving, completely animated young woman, he may have been mistaken on this point. Her talk with him betrayed little agitation ; it expressed a kindness so ingenious and deliberate as to indicate that she was in undis- turbed possession of her faculties. Poor Lord Warburton had moments of bewilderment. She had discouraged him, formally, as much as a woman could ; what business had she then to have such soft, reassuring tones in her voice 1 The others came back ; the bare, familiar, trivial opera began again. The box was large, aud there was room for Lord Warburton to remain if he would sit a little behind, in the dark. He did so for half-an-hour, while Mr. Osmond sat in front, leaning forward, with his elbows on his knees, just behind Isabel,, Lord Warburton heard nothing, and from his gloomy corner saw nothing but the clear profile of this young lady, denned against the dim illumination of the house. When there was another interval no one moved. Mr. Osmond talked to Isabel, and Lord Warburton remained in his corner. He did so but for a short time, however ; after which he got up and bade good-night to the ladies. Isabel said nothing to detain him, and then he was puzzled again. Why had she so sweet a voice such a friendly accent? He was angry with himself for being puzzled, and then angry for being angry. Verdi's music did little to comfort him, and he left the theatre and walked homeward, without knowing his way, through tiib tortuous, tragical streets of Rome, where heavier sorrows than his had been carried under the stars. " What is the character of that gentleman?" Osmond asked of Isabel, after the visitor had gone. " Irreproachable don't you see it ? " " He owns about half England; that's his character," Henrietta remarked. " That's what they call a free country ! " " Ah, he is a great proprietor ? Happy man ! " said Gilbert Osmond. " Do you call that happiness the ownership of human beings 1 " cried Miss Stackpole. " He owns his tenants, and he has thousands of them. It is pleasant to own something, but inanimate objects are enough for me. I don't insist on flesh and blood, and minds and consciences." " It seems to me you own a human being or two," Mr. Bantling suggested jocosely. " I wonder if Warburton orders his tenants about as you do me." " Lord Warburton is a great radical," Isabel said. " He has very advanced opinions." " He has very advanced stone walls. His park is inclosed