ed to her that here he might become more interesting. He would be an unconscious part of the antiquity, the impressiveness, the picturesqueness, of England; and poor Bessie Alden, like many a Yankee maiden, was terribly at the mercy of picturesqueness.
"I have often wished I were at Newport again," said the young man. "Those days I spent at your sister's were awfully jolly."
"We enjoyed them very much; I hope your father is better."
"Oh dear, yes. When I got to England, he was out grouse-shooting. It was what you call in America a gigantic fraud. My mother had got nervous. My three weeks at Newport seemed like a happy dream."
"America certainly is very different from England," said Bessie.
"I hope you like England better, eh?" Lord Lambeth rejoined, almost persuasively.
"No Englishman can ask that seriously of a person of another country."
Her companion looked at her for a moment. "You mean it's a matter of course?"
"If I were English," said Bessie, "it would certainly seem to me a matter of course that every one should be a good patriot."
"Oh dear, yes, patriotism is every thing," said