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394 394 THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY. the lady had requested him to say that if the Countess should not recognise her name, she would know her well enough on seeing her. By the time she appeared before her visitor she had in fact reminded herself that there was once a literary lady at Mrs. Touchett's ; the only woman of letters she had ever encountered. That is, the only modern one, since she was the daughter of a defunct poetess. She recognised Miss Stackpole immediately ; the more so that Miss Stackpole seemed perfectly unchanged ; and the Countess, who was thoroughly good-natured, thought it rather fine to be called on by a person of that sort of distinction. She wondered whether Miss Stackpole had come on account of her mother whether she had heard of the Ameri- can Corinne. Her mother was not at all like Isabel's friend ; the Countess could see at a glance that this lady was much more modern ; and she received an impression of the improvements that were taking place chiefly in distant countries in the character (the professional character) of literary ladies. Her mother used to wear a Roman scarf thrown over a pair of bare shoulders, and a gold laurel-wreath set upon a multitude of glossy ringlets. She spoke softly and vaguely, with a kind of Southern accent ; she sighed a great deal, and was not at all enterprising. But Henrietta, the Countess could see, was always closely buttoned and compactly braided ; there was something brisk and business-like in her appearance, and her manner was almost conscientiously familiar The Countess could not but feel that the correspondent of the Interviewer was much more efficient than the American Corinne. Henrietta explained that she Irad come to see the Countess because she was the only person she knew in Florence, and that when she visited a foreign city she liked to see something more than superficial travellers. She knew Mrs. Touchett, but Mrs. Touchett was in America, and even if she had been in Florence Henrietta would not have gone to see her, for Mrs. Touchett was not one of her admirations. "Do you mean by that that I am 1 ?" the Countess asked, smiling graciously. " Well, I like you better than I do her," said Miss Stackpole. "I seem to remember that when I saw you before you were very interesting. I don't know whether it was an accident, or whether it is your usual style. At any rate, I was a good deal struck with what you said. I made use of it afterwards in print." " Dear me ! " cried the Countes*, staring and half-alarmed ; " I had no idea I ever said anything remarkable ! I wish I had known it."