rd--and such a card--on old Blue-Light! A
decent one might do for Beau Brummel's grave, but Jackson's--!"

Mr. Heathcote was with him, and, after one careless glance, had strolled
up and down, absorbed in his own thoughts, which were not of war or
death. He only half listened to his uncle's praise of the great soldier,
and presently said, _a propos_ of nothing that had happened that day,
"Uncle, what would you say if I should ask you to let me live at
'Heart's Content'?"

"Eh? What's that?" asked Sir Robert, forgetting in his surprise to blow
out the lighted match he had just applied to the offending cards. "You
live in America? What idea have you got in your head, my boy?"

Mr. Heathcote could not tell his uncle that Edith had said that she
would never marry an Englishman, never! but that if she ever did, she
should insist upon his living in America, for to go away from mamma and
papa and the boys and everybody she cared for was a thing she could not
and would not do, not if she adored the man that demanded such a
sacrifice of her. What he did say was that he was tired of his aimless
life in London, and liked his uncle too well to look forward with any
pleasure to succeeding him, and that he should like to have a small
property to manage without aid of bailiff, steward, agent, or factotum
of any kind. "I could go over whenever I liked, or you needed me, and
you could come to me to see that I wasn't making ducks and drakes of the
property," he said. "And it is an experiment, I grant; but you have
always been awfully generous and kind to me, and I have something laid
by that would cover the possible losses my inexperience might cause, for
the first year at least. I am sure I can learn the trade, and am willing
to pay for my apprenticeship, if you will only let me try my hand at
farming."

"The boy is thinking of marrying," was Sir Robert's mental comment; but
he only said that he had bought the place with a very different idea,
but that he would think the matter over.

"You must remember that it will not be child's play," he said. "And if
you should grow attached to it and wish to stay, you will be practically
giving up your own country, you know. But America is hardly a foreign
country. It is the representative institutions, moral ideas, social
atmosphere, and mental habits that make a people, not the mere physical
features of the country, and in character the Americans are, as Mr.
Aglonby would say, 'Englishmen on