"And so we were all riding round here this morning, and I had
the self-denial to stop to see you, and leave Florence and the
Marlboroughs to monopolize him all the way home. You ought to
love me for ever for it. My dear Fleda!" said Constance,
clasping her hands, and elevating her eyes in mock ecstasy,
"if you had ever seen Mr. Carleton!"

"I dare say I have seen somebody as good," said Fleda,
quietly.

"My dear Fleda!" said Constance, a little scornfully this
time; "you haven't the least idea what you are talking about!
I tell you, he is an Englishman; he's of one of the best
families in England: not such as you ever see here but once in
an age; he's rich enough to count Mr. Thorn over, I don't know
how many times."

"I don't like anybody the better for being an Englishman,"
said Fleda; "and it must be a small man whose purse will hold
his measure."

Constance made an impatient gesture.

"But I tell you it isn't! We knew him when we were abroad; and
we know what he is; and we know his mother very well. When we
were in England, we were a week with them down at their
beautiful place in — shire — the loveliest time! You see, she
was over here with Mr. Carleton once before, a good while ago;
and mamma and papa were polite to them, and so they showed us