"It was not that," said Dolly shaking her head. "I grew absolutely fond of the gladiator; and Raphael's Michael conquering the dragon was much more beautiful to me the last time I saw it than ever it was before; and so of a thousand other things. They seemed to grow into my heart. So at Venice. The palace of the doges—I did not appreciate it at first. It was only by degrees that I learned to appreciate it."
"Your taste for art has been uncommonly cultivated!"
"No" said Dolly. "I do not know anything about art. Till this journey I had never seen much."
"There is a little to see at Brierley," said the lady of the house. "I should like to show it to you."
"I should like dearly to see it again," said Dolly. "Your ladyship is very kind. Mrs. Jersey did show me the house once, when we first came here; and I was delighted with some of the pictures, and the old carvings. It was all so unlike anything at home."
"At home?" said Lady Brierley enquiringly.
"I mean, in America."
"Novelty again," said the lady, smiling, for she could not help liking Dolly.
"No," said Dolly, "not that. It was far more than that. It was the real beauty,—and then, it was the tokens of a family which had had power enough to write its history all along. There was the power, and the history; and such a strange breath of other days. There is nothing like that in America.''
"Then we shall keep you in England?" said Lady Brierley still with a pleased smile.