‘Who throws them in your teeth, Miss Spalding?’

’You look it, all of you, if you do not speak it out.  You do assume a superiority, Mr Glascock; and that we cannot endure.’

‘I do not feel that I assume anything,’ said Mr Glascock, meekly.

’If three gentlemen be together, an Englishman, a Frenchman, and an American, is not the American obliged to be on his mettle to prove that he is somebody among the three?  I admit that he is always claiming to be the first; but he does so only that he may not be too evidently the last.  If you knew us, Mr Glascock, you would find us to be very mild, and humble, and nice, and good, and clever, and kind, and charitable, and beautiful—­in short, the finest people that have as yet been created on the broad face of God’s smiling earth.’  These last words she pronounced with a nasal twang, and in a tone of voice which almost seemed to him to be a direct mimicry of the American Minister.  The upshot of the conversation, however, was that the disgust against Americans which, to a certain degree, had been excited in Mr Glascock’s mind by the united efforts of Mr Spalding and the poetess, had been almost entirely dispelled.  From all of which the reader ought to understand that Miss Olivia Spalding was a very clever young woman.

But nevertheless Mr Glascock had not quite made up his mind to ask the elder sister to be his wife.  He was one of those men to whom love-making does not come very easy, although he was never so much at his ease as when he was in company with ladies.  He was sorely in want of a wife, but he was aware that at different periods during the last fifteen years he had been angled for as a fish.  Mothers in England had tried to catch him, and of such mothers he had come to have the strongest possible detestation.  He had seen the hooks or perhaps had fancied that he saw them when they were not there.  Lady Janes and Lady Sarahs had been hard upon him, till he learned to buckle himself into triple armour when he went amongst them, and yet he wanted a wife; no man more sorely wanted one.  The reader will perhaps remember how he went down to Nuncombe Putney in quest of a wife, but all in vain.  The lady in that case had been so explicit with him that he could not hope for a more favourable answer; and, indeed, he would not have cared to marry a girl who had told him that she preferred another man to himself, even if it had been possible for him to do so.  Now he had met a lady very different from those with whom he had hitherto associated but not the less manifestly a lady.  Caroline Spalding was bright, pleasant, attractive, very easy to talk to, and yet quite able to hold her own.  But the American Minister was a bore; and Miss Petrie was unbearable.  He had often told himself that in this matter of marrying a wife he would please himself altogether, that he would allow himself to be tied down by no consideration of family pride, that he would consult nothing but his own heart and feelings.