“You are a stranger here, Sir Walter Langton!--I cannot allow you to feel solitary in our company!” “Is it possible for anyone to feel solitary when you are near, Madam?” returned Sir Walter gallantly, as he obeyed the gesture with which she motioned him to be seated;--“You must be weary of hearing that even your silent presence is sufficient to fill space with melody and charm! And I am not altogether a stranger; I know this country well, though I have never till now had the honour of visiting its ruling sovereign.” “It is very unlike England,” said the Queen, slowly unfurling her fan of soft white plumage and waving it to and fro. “Very unlike, indeed!” he agreed, and a musing tenderness darkened his fine hazel eyes as he gazed out on the sparkling sea. “You like England best?” resumed the Queen. “Madam, I am an Englishman! To me there is no land so fair, or so much worth living and dying for, as England!” “Yet--I suppose, like all your countrymen, you are fond of change?” “Yes--and no, Madam!” replied Langton.--“In truth, if I am to speak frankly, it is only during the last thirty or forty years that my countrymen have blotted their historical scutcheons by this fondness for change. Where travelling is necessary for the attainment of some worthy object, then it is wise and excellent,--but where it is only for the purpose of distracting a self-satiated mind, it is of no avail, and indeed frequently does more harm than good.” “Self-satiated!” repeated the Queen,--“Is not that a strange word?” “It is the only compound expression I can use to describe the discontented humour in which the upper classes of English society exist to-day,” replied Sir Walter. “For many years the soul of England has been held in chains by men whose thoughts are all of Self,--the honour of England has been attainted by women whose lives are moulded from first to last on Self. To me, personally, England is everything,--I have no thought outside it--no wish beyond it. Yet I am as ashamed of some of its leaders of opinion to-day, as if I saw my own mother dragged in the dust and branded with infamy!” “You speak of your Government?” began the Queen. “No, Madam,--I have no more quarrel with my country’s present Government than I could have with a child who is led into a ditch by its nurse. It is a weak and corrupted Government; and its actual rulers are vile and abandoned women.” The Queen’s eyes opened in a beautiful, startled wonderment;--this man’s clear, incisive manner of speech interested her. “Women!” she echoed, then smiled; “You speak strongly, Sir Walter! I have certainly heard of the ‘advanced’ women who push themselves so much forward in your country, but I had no idea they were so mischievous! Are they to be admired? Or pitied?”