acknowledge that here and there a marriage may have
been arranged in Heaven. I don't think that in your country you have
perceived this, Mr. Glascock."

"I am not quite sure that we have," said Mr. Glascock.

"Yours is not altogether an inglorious mission," continued Miss
Petrie.

"I've got no mission," said Mr. Glascock,--"either from the Foreign
Office, or from my own inner convictions."

Miss Petrie laughed with a scornful laugh. "I spoke, sir, of the
mission of that small speck on the earth's broad surface, of which
you think so much, and which we call Great Britain."

"I do think a good deal of it," said Mr. Glascock.

"It has been more thought of than any other speck of the same size,"
said Carry Spalding.

"True," said Miss Petrie, sharply;--"because of its iron and coal.
But the mission I spoke of was this." And she put forth her hand with
an artistic motion as she spoke. "It utters prophecies, though it
cannot read them. It sends forth truth, though it cannot understand
it. Though its own ears are deaf as adders', it is the nursery of
poets, who sing not for their own countrymen, but for the higher
sensibilities and newer intelligences of lands, in which philanthropy
has made education as common as the air that is breathed."

"Wally," said Olivia, coming up to the poetess, in anger that was
almost apparent, "I want to take you, and introduce you to the
Marchesa Pulti."

But Miss Petrie no doubt knew that the eldest son of an English lord
was at least as good as an Italian marchesa. "Let her come here,"
said the poetess, with her grandest smile.

CHAPTER LVI.

WITHERED GRASS.

[Illustration]

When Caroline Spalding perceived how direct an attempt had been made
by her sister to take the poetess away, in order that she might
thus be left alone with Mr. Glascock, her spirit revolted against
the manoeuvre, and she took herself away amidst the crowd. If Mr.
Glascock should wish to find her again he could do so. And there came
across her mind something of a half-formed idea that, perhaps after
all her friend Wallachia was right. Were this man ready to take her
and she ready to be taken, would such an arrangement be a happy one
for both of them? His high-born, wealthy friends might very probably
despise her, and it was quite possible that she also might despise
them. To be Lady Peterborough, and have the spending of a large
fortune, would not suffice for her happiness. She was sure of that.