"Let them join you," I whispered; "the sooner it is over with the better." Jessie stood up, gathered the long riding-skirt in one hand, while she walked past her guest with the air of a princess, and stepped out on the balcony, from which she made a gesture of invitation, which the two gentlemen acknowledged with profound bows, and rode away. "That's an angel!" exclaimed Mrs. Dennison, laying her hand on Jessie's shoulder. "I almost thought something had gone wrong, by the way you left us. Poor Mr. Bosworth was quite crestfallen." Jessie made a little gesture of annoyance, which the widow was quick to observe, and instantly changed the subject. CHAPTER XI. THE BASKET OF FRUIT. "I should not have thought, by the way you parted, that you and Mr. Bosworth were old friends." Jessie seemed annoyed, and replied, with a flush on her cheek, "that it was rather difficult to be demonstrative on horseback." "At any rate, he's a splendid man," said the widow. "Rich or poor? Bond or free? Tell us all about him. I never thought to inquire before, but this looks serious." "What strange questions you ask!" answered Jessie, and the color deepened in her cheek. "Well, well, but the answer?" Here I interposed: "Mr. Bosworth is not very rich. At least I never heard that he was." "What a pity!" whispered the widow. "But the other questions?" "If having no wife is to be free, you can hardly call him a bondman. Yes." "What has he ever done to distinguish himself, then? Can you tell me that, Miss Hyde?" "He is considered a man of brilliant parts, certainly," I answered; "but at his age few men have won permanent distinction, I fancy." "At his age! Why, the man must be over eight-and-twenty, and half the great men that ever lived had made their mark in the world before they reached that age." "Well, that may be," I replied; "but in these times greatness is not so easily won. The level of general intelligence, in our country at least, is raised, and it requires great genius, indeed, to lift a man suddenly above his fellows. In a dead sea of ignorance, superior ability looms up with imposing conspicuousness. This is why the great men of past times have cast the reflection of their minds on history;--not entirely because they excelled men of the present age, but from the low grade of popular intelligence that existed around them." "Why, you talk like a statesman," said the widow, laughing. "I had no idea that anything so near politics existed in the ladies of this house." "What is history but the politics of the past?" said Jessie. "What is politics but a history of the present?" "Perhaps you are right," said the widow, flinging off her careless manner, and sitting down on one of the rustic chairs, where she began to dust her skirt with the fanciful whip fastened to her wrist. "I have often wondered why it should be considered unfeminine for an educated woman to understand the institutions of her own or any other country."