Their brother Stephen, the head of the family, sat in the House of Commons as Liberal Member for Flint Burghs, and afterwards for Flintshire, from 1832 to 1847; his interests and tastes, however, lay rather in archæology than in politics. He was a man of great refinement and remarkable modesty, but he lacked the business capacity, as will be seen later, needed for managing landed estates. Among his friends at Oxford was W. E. Gladstone. The Glynnes, after the girls grew up, often went abroad, and once when Catherine was with her brother in Florence, they passed a gentleman who raised his hat. She asked Stephen who the handsome young man was. “Don’t you know him?” he replied. “That is young Gladstone, the Member for Newark, and the man who everybody says will one day be Prime Minister of England.” Catherine was first introduced to Gladstone at the house of Mr. Milnes Gaskell in London, and then they used to meet at Lady Theresa Lister’s musical parties and elsewhere. The two sisters were known as “the twin flowers of North Wales,” were greatly admired in London society, and received numerous proposals of marriage. They were, however, bound up in each other, and were determined that one could not be engaged or married without the other. Gladstone admired Catherine in silence, scarcely dreaming that he dared aspire to her hand. In 1835 he was invited by Glynne to pay a visit to Hawarden. But still he did not venture to speak. In the winter of 1838-39 he was suffering from overwork, and was ordered abroad. He had been a junior Lord of the Treasury, and also Under-Secretary for War under Sir Robert Peel, and had published his book on Church and State, and so was not without claims to distinction. In Rome in December he met Stephen Glynne and his sisters, and there found courage to propose to Catherine one moonlight night in the Coliseum. He had repeated to her Byron’s lines from “Manfred” beginning: “I do remember me, that in my youth, When I was wandering,--upon such a night I stood within the Coliseum’s wall--” Notwithstanding his eloquent appeal Miss Glynne refused him, and it was not until the following June at Lady Shelley’s garden party that she accepted him. About the same time her sister Mary became engaged to the fourth Lord Lyttelton. When the two bridegrooms arrived at Hawarden for the wedding, they walked down the village street, “Gladstone, tall and upright in figure, pale and strong in face, with dark flashing eyes like an eagle’s; Lord Lyttelton, something of a rough and awkward youth of twenty-one, with rugged features, massive head, and intellectual brow; some one said, gazing at Gladstone, ‘Isn’t it easy to see which is the lord?’”