"'I am a true, staunch Englishman,' replied the earl, 'and am not willing to own that anything can be better than the mild and beneficent rule of our gracious Queen Victoria, under the good constitution of old England. I think you Americans are too fast, and are growing to be so large, as almost to become unwieldy; this is what I fear for America; her very freedom may be abused.' "'We are a driving people, my lord, fast in every way; in enterprise, in business, in habits of living; in fine, I fear, with you, too fast; too reckless in modes of making money; and in many quarters I see signs of corruption, which must bring upon us God's judgments; I fear, my lord, sometimes for the future of my beloved country, for God rules among the nations, as well as among individuals.' "'May God preserve America to be a bright example of a fine, intelligent, and virtuous people,' said the good earl; 'and now, Mr. Hamilton, let me give you a toast-- "'America, the stalwart child of Old England--may they go side by side, in all that is good, and great, and glorious!' "And then my father responded, "'Queen Victoria, and the realm of Great Britain--may she long be spared to bless her great dominions.' "Both toasts were drunk standing. "Sir Edward sat rather silent for the rest of the meal, and the good earl patted me kindly on the head in the drawing-room, and said, "'Yours is a warm and noble heart, Miss Hamilton; may it find its mate in good old England.' "What does the earl mean? I hope nothing with reference to his son; I should be truly distressed. "Another bunch of flowers from Lord N----; they are very, very sweet; but I laid them by the side of the old withered sea-weed, and their charm was gone. "Ah, Roland! do you cherish the little shoe and the child's picture yet! * * * * * * * "My father is worse, I see it daily; he is losing his spirits, and the earl seems distressed. "Am I to lose my father, my dearest earthly tie? He sent for me to-day to come to his room. He looked so sad, sitting in his large easy chair. He took me on his lap, as when I was wild little Mad-cap. 'Madeline, my daughter, I sent for you, because I have much to say. I am not so well, my child; indeed, the signs in my case warn me that I have not much longer to live. I have arranged everything for you; you are left independent, with none to trammel you, and the power to choose your own guardian. I can trust you, Madeline, in all things; I could have wished to leave you under the care of a wise and faithful companion, worthy of my daughter; but that is a subject in which I shall not bind you; you are free to choose there wholly for yourself. I shall not live, Madeline, to cross the ocean.' O, how my heart sank! I bowed my head on his dear shoulder, and wept convulsively. 'Do not speak so, dear papa, I cannot bear it,' was my answer.