To be sure, she was now a
Countess, but she had been transplanted to her native soil, and had
not grown there.
It might be asked, if he was so insular in his ideas, why had he
taken an American wife, and she a widow? He had been charmed by her
vivacity. She lifted him out of the gloom in which he had lived so
long. If she had been tame and prosaic, she would have worn the weeds
of widowhood again in a short time. She made him comfortable; she
surrounded him with the brightest people she could find; he was not
allowed to mope indoors, and Sir Stuart Fernborough and his sprightly
American wife attended all the important social functions of the
County, and many in London, and at the houses of their friends. And
now a great joy was to come to Lady Fernborough. She expected
visitors from the United States, and what she considered needful
preparations kept her in a flutter of excitement.
"How soon do you expect them?" asked Sir Stuart at breakfast.
"To-morrow, or next day. They sailed on the tenth; to-morrow is the
seventeenth, but they may rest for a day in Liverpool--"
"Or stay a day or two in London," suggested Sir Stuart.
"I hope not, for my guests will be impatient to see a real live
American ex-governor. Quincy's political advancement has been very
rapid."
"America is a rapid country, my dear," was Sir Stuart's comment.
When Lady Fernborough reached her boudoir, she seated herself at her
writing desk and wrote rapidly for nearly an hour.
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