Josephine flushed with pleasure. His glance, his gesture, his words, all plainly indicated that he did not consider her the least attraction in America or among Americans.
“Thank you, in the name of my native land,” she said; “but I think you must be an exception to the proverbial Englishman, for I have been told that, as a rule, they do not like us any too well. They cannot forgive us our independence.”
“One may be forced to admire in one way that which it might not be pleasant to contemplate in another,” his lordship returned. “But,” he added, “I trust that as we, as nations, become better acquainted with each other by the frequent interchange of courtesies, we shall also become better friends.”
“Have you been long in America?”
“Nearly a year. I have visited a large portion of the country, and I must confess that I am greatly pleased and interested in what I have seen, and particularly so with your free institutions and schools. Your people, too, are generous, free-hearted, and intelligent, while the beauty of American ladies, you know, is proverbial,” he concluded, smiling.
Josephine’s dark eyes drooped shyly beneath his glance, while the blood went rippling to her heart with a thrill such as she had never before experienced.
“I shall remain two or three months longer,” he continued; “and I think when I do return, notwithstanding I love old England very dearly, I shall go with something of regret.”
He would remain two or three months longer.
Josephine’s heart leaped exultingly; she would meet him often, perhaps, this noble young peer; and what might not happen in two or three months?
“Do you remain long at Long Branch?” she asked.