him.
For the present he satisfied himself with inviting his neighbour to
come and drink tea with Mrs. Spalding on the next evening but one.
"The girls will be delighted, I am sure," said he, thinking himself
to be justified in this friendly familiarity by Mr. Glascock's
enthusiasm. For Mr. Spalding was clearly of opinion that, let the
value of republican simplicity be what it might, an alliance with the
crumbling marbles of Europe would in his niece's circumstances be not
inexpedient. Mr. Glascock accepted the invitation with alacrity, and
the minister when he was closeted with his wife that evening declared
his opinion that after all the Britisher meant fighting. The aunt
told the girls that Mr. Glascock was coming, and in order that it
might not seem that a net was being specially spread for him, others
were invited to join the party. Miss Petrie consented to be there,
and the Italian, Count Buonarosci, to whose presence, though she
could not speak to him, Mrs. Spalding was becoming accustomed. It
was painful to her to feel that she could not communicate with those
around her, and for that reason she would have avoided Italians. But
she had an idea that she could not thoroughly realise the advantages
of foreign travel unless she lived with foreigners; and, therefore,
she was glad to become intimate at any rate with the outside of Count
Buonarosci.

"I think your uncle is wrong, dear," said Miss Petrie early in the
day to her friend.

"But why? He has done nothing more than what is just civil."

"If Mr. Glascock kept a store in Broadway he would not have thought
it necessary to shew the same civility."

"Yes;--if we all liked the Mr. Glascock who kept the store."

"Caroline," said the poetess with severe eloquence, "can you put your
hand upon your heart and say that this inherited title, this tinkling
cymbal as I call it, has no attraction for you or yours? Is it the
unadorned simple man that you welcome to your bosom, or a thing of
stars and garters, a patch of parchment, the minion of a throne,
the lordling of twenty descents, in which each has been weaker than
that before it, the hero of a scutcheon, whose glory is in his
quarterings, and whose worldly wealth comes from the sweat of serfs
whom the euphonism of an effete country has learned to decorate with
the name of tenants?"

But Caroline Spalding had a spirit of her own, and had already made
up her mind that she would not be talked down by Miss Petrie.