purely American.

"I hardly know which I should prefer," Carmen was saying when they
were talking over the ball and the earl's departure, "to be an English
countess or the wife of an American millionaire."

"It might depend upon the man," replied Margaret, with a smile.

"The American," continued Carmen, not heeding this suggestion, "has the
greater opportunities, and is not hindered by traditions. If you were a
countess you would have to act like a countess. If you are an American
you can act--like anything--you can do what you please. That is nicer.
Now, an earl must do what an earl has always done. What could you do
with such a husband? Mind! Yes, I know, dear, about things of the mind.
First, you know, he will be a gentleman socialist (in the magazines),
and maybe a Christian socialist, or a Christian scientist, or something
of that sort, interested in the Mind Cure."

"I should think that would suit you. Last I knew, you were deep in the
Mind Cure."

"So I was. That was last week. Now I'm in the Faith Cure; I've found out
about both. The difference is, in the Mind Cure you don't require any
faith; in the Faith Cure you don't require any mind. The Faith Cure just
suits me."

"So you put your faith in an American millionaire?"

"Yes, I think I should, until an American millionaire put faith in me.
That might shake me. It is such a queer world. No, I'm in doubt. If
you loved an earl he would stay an earl. If you loved an American
millionaire, ten to one he would fail."

Margaret did not escape the responsibility of her success. Who does? My
dear Charmian, who wrote the successful novel of last year, do you not
already repent your rash act? If you do not write a better novel this
year, will not the public flout you and jeer you for a pretender? Did
the public overpraise you at first? Its mistaken partiality becomes
now your presumption. Last year the press said you were the rival of
Hawthorne. This year it is, "that Miss Charmian who set herself up as a
second Hawthorne." When the new house was opened, it might be said that
socially Mrs. Henderson had "arrived." Had she? When one enters on the
path of worldliness is there any resting-place? Is not eternal vigilance
the price of position?

Henderson was apparently on good terms with the world. Many envied him,
many paid him the sincerest flattery, that of imitation. He was a king
in the street, great enterprises sought his aid, all the charities
knocked at