settling down!" Then with a forced smile: "Heaven give me strength to bear it!"
"O mighty world," I cried, "to hold at once so rare an Italy and so brave an England!"
"To say nothing of America," added Searle.
"O," I answered, "America has a world to herself!"
"You have the advantage over me," my companion resumed, after a pause, "in coming to all this with an educated eye. You already know the old. I have never known it but by report. I have always fancied I should like it. In a small way at home, you know, I have tried to stick to the old. I must be a conservative by nature. People at home—a few people—used to call me a snob."
"I don't believe you were a snob," I cried. "You look too amiable."
He smiled sadly. "There it is," he said. "It's the old story! I'm amiable! I know what that means! I was too great a fool to be even a snob! If I had been I should probably have come abroad earlier in life—before—before—" He paused, and his head dropped sadly on his breast.
The bottle of Burgundy had loosened his tongue. I felt that my learning his story was merely a question of time. Something told me that I had gained his confidence and he would unfold himself. "Before you lost your health," I said.
