than Newman, but he was not such a
poet."

"I know nothing about Dissenters and that class. As for the
Catholics--the few I am acquainted with are civil and sensible."

"That is true. Most of the English Catholics imagine that St. Peter's
and the Vatican can be maintained on the policy of a parish church in
Mayfair! But one moment. There is Aumerle in the hall with a telegram. I
wonder if he has any fresh news about poor Derby." [Footnote: Lord Derby
was then lying at the point of death.]

With this unimpeachable excuse he left his noble companion, who, more
certain than ever that Disraeli could never be in touch with the upper
classes of England, retired to his own room and wrote down in a journal
all he could remember of their conversation.

Lady Sara, meanwhile, had invited Agnes Carillon to walk through the
famous gardens of Kemmerstone, and, as each girl was anxious to study
the other, they started on the expedition in that high pitch of nervous
excitement and generous animosity which one may detect in splendid
rivals, or even in formal allies. Sara dressed more richly than was the
fashion at that time among English unmarried ladies. Her furs, velvets,
laces and jewels were referred to an Asiatic, barbaric love of display.
Agnes, therefore, who had attired herself, in protest, even more plainly
than usual, was a little taken aback to find her remarkable acquaintance
in brown cashmere, a cloth jacket, and a severe felt hat of the Tyrolean
shape, which, poised upon her chignon, tilted far over her fine blue
eyes. Both women, however, were so young and handsome that even the
trying fashions of the period could not destroy their brilliant
appearance. The chagrin of the one and the ironical triumph of the other
soon gave way to more generous feelings. Each took her companion's
measure with a swift, intelligent, respectful glance.

"Shall we need umbrellas?" said Agnes.

"I have nothing on that will spoil," replied Sara, "but I am a little
anxious about your shoes. Are they thick enough?"

Miss Carillon was above many vanities; she left her facial beauty to
take care of itself. But her feet were uncommonly well moulded, and she
was careful not to disguise them in the hideous porpoise-hide boots with
flat soles and no instep which found favour with her generation.

"They look very nice," continued Sara, "and I really think they are
worth a slight cold. Take my arm, for then we can walk better. How nobly
Lord Reck