There was not then in Rome--I may almost say there was not in Italy--an Englishman or an American who did not wish well to the cause for which Italy was and is still contending, as also there is hardly one who does not now regard that cause as well-nigh triumphant; but nevertheless it was almost impossible to sympathise with Mrs. Talboys. As Mackinnon said, she flew so high that there was no comfort in flying with her.
“Well,” said he, “Brown and the rest of them are down below. Shall we go and join them?”
“Poor Brown! How was it that in speaking of his troubles we were led on to this heart-stirring theme? Yes, I have seen them, the sweet angels; and I tell you also that I have seen their mother. I insisted on going to her when I heard her history from him.”
“Well, education has done more for some of us than for others, and there are those from whose morals and sentiments we might thankfully draw a lesson, whose manners and outward gestures are not such as custom has made agreeable to us. You, I know, can understand that. I have seen her, and feel sure that she is pure in heart and high in principle. Has she not sacrificed herself, and is not self-sacrifice the surest guarantee for true nobility of character? Would Mrs. Mackinnon object to my bringing them together?”
Mackinnon was obliged to declare that he thought his wife would object, and from that time forth he and Mrs. Talboys ceased to be very close in their friendship. She still came to the house every Sunday evening, still refreshed herself at the fountains of his literary rills, but her special prophecies from henceforth were poured into other ears; and it so happened that O’Brien now became her chief ally. I do not remember that she troubled herself much further with the cherub angels or with their mother, and I am inclined to think that, taking up warmly as she did the story of O’Brien’s matrimonial wrongs, she forgot the little history of the Browns. Be that as it may, Mrs. Talboys and O’Brien now became strictly confidential, and she would enlarge by the half-hour together on the miseries of her friend’s position to any one whom she could get to hear her.
“I’ll tell you what, Fanny,” Mackinnon said to his wife one day--to his wife and to mine, for we were all together--“we shall have a row in the house if we don’t take care. O’Brien will be making love to Mrs. Talboys.”