“It is the truth, Uncle Will, whatever else it may be,” she retorted, as she began to arrange her flowers in a vase on the table. “I am English to the backbone. I am thoroughly imbued with a love for my own people, and I shall never permit myself to draw disloyal comparisons.” Rupert laughed outright as, in his mind, he placed the stooping figure and imbecile face of the halfwitted young lord beside the grandly developed form and frank, handsome countenance of his American friend. “If you could place the two men side by side, I warrant you would be compelled to draw disloyal comparisons, in spite of your very praiseworthy patriotism, my fair cousin,” he said, a roguish twinkle in his eyes. Lillian shot an angry glance at those last words; nothing annoyed her more than to be called “sister” or “cousin” by Rupert. “I thank you for acknowledging that I am imbued with patriotism. I wonder what has become of yours,” she said, sarcastically. “I have plenty of it, only I do not allow it to warp my judgment; I can appreciate both beauty and goodness whenever I find it, at home or abroad.” “That is a self-evident fact,” remarked the young girl, dryly, and Rupert colored consciously. “I give you credit for just as nice discrimination,” he retorted. “Wait till you see my friend, Webster, and if he doesn’t take the palm I shall ‘lose my guess,’ as the Yankees say.” “That is American slang; they are all insufferably coarse,” Lillian returned, contemptuously. “Did you meet the pretty little American, Miss Alexander, at Lady Dunforth’s the other evening, Lillian?” inquired Sir William. “Yes, I met her,” the girl admitted, rather ungraciously. “Well, you would hardly class her among those whom you term coarse, would you? I thought her an unusually attractive girl.” “No; I admit she appeared very pretty and lady-like and yet I have no doubt that she would soon betray her nationality if one was to see much of her.” “Neither have I; and she would be proud to own it, also, I’ll wager,” Rupert observed, with some spirit. He was out of patience with Lillian’s unreasonable prejudices, and her slighting tone in speaking of Virgie made him indignant. She looked at him with a mocking smile on her red lips. “When shall we have the pleasure of congratulating you upon your American conquest?” she asked, saucily. “I shall take great pleasure in informing you when the proper time arrives,” he replied, with studied politeness, and with a seriousness that drove all color from the girl’s face and made her heart sink like lead in her bosom. At that moment the butler entered the room with a telegram, which he presented to Sir William, and then withdrew. The baronet tore it open and read: “Come to Middlewich at once. William has had a dangerous fall. MARGARET HEATH.”