often with false accent, but always with intense enthusiasm. The reflection that he had had no part of his life in common with her,--that he did not love the things which she loved,--could not share her prejudices (and women have a feeling akin to contempt for a man who does not respond to their prejudices)--removed him at times almost beyond the reach of her sympathy. It was interesting enough as long as the experience was novel, to be thus unconsciously exploring another person’s mind and finding so many strange objects there; but after a while the thing began to assume an uncomfortably serious aspect, and then there seemed to be something almost terrible about it. At such times a call from a gentleman of her own nation, even though he were one of the placidly stupid type, would be a positive relief; she could abandon herself to the secure sense of being at home; she need fear no surprises, and in the smooth shallows of their talk there were no unsuspected depths to excite and to baffle her ingenuity. And, again, reverting in her thought to Halfdan, his conversational brilliancy would almost repel her, as something odious and un-American, the cheap result of outlandish birth and unrepublican education. Not that she had ever valued republicanism very highly; she was one of those who associated politics with noisy vulgarity in speech and dress, and therefore thanked fortune that women were permitted to keep aloof from it. But in the presence of this alien she found herself growing patriotic; that much-discussed abstraction, which we call our country (and which is nothing but the aggregate of all the slow and invisible influences which go toward making up our own being), became by degrees a very palpable and intelligible fact to her. Frequently while her American self was thus loudly asserting itself, Edith inflicted many a cruel wound upon her foreign adorer. Once,--it was the Fourth of July, more than a year after Halfdan’s arrival, a number of young ladies and gentlemen, after having listened to a patriotic oration, were invited in to an informal luncheon. While waiting, they naturally enough spent their time in singing national songs, and Halfdan’s clear tenor did good service in keeping the straggling voices together. When they had finished, Edith went up to him and was quite effusive in her expressions of gratitude. “I am sure we ought all to be very grateful to you, Mr. Birch,” she said, “and I, for my part, can assure you that I am.” “Grateful? Why?” demanded Halfdan, looking quite unhappy. “For singing OUR national songs, of course. Now, won’t you sing one of your own, please? We should all be so delighted to hear how a Swedish--or Norwegian, is it?--national song sounds.” “Yes, Mr. Birch, DO sing a Swedish song,” echoed several voices.