"You know your lesson quite well," with a little tinge of sarcasm; "if you stay here long enough you'll find he did a great many other things. Ah! he knew the beautiful. Look! were there ever any buildings more in harmony, more exquisite in design, more fitted for living--Pshaw!" she broke off petulantly at the young man's laugh, "you've made me boast! You've seen Monticello?" she asked a little haughtily, as she straightened from her leaning position. "Of course." The girl's eyes darkened as she stood looking down the campus from her point of vantage, and though she was too proud to speak again of its beauty--for it was her home--the young man's glances followed hers and he noted it all; the inner quadrangle framed in its buildings of quaint architecture, the velvet green of the campus, set with maples, and dipping thrice and then deeply toward the gleaming buildings at the end; the long stretch of corridors and white pillars, the professors' houses rising two-storied above the students' homes: and about these, outside, the wide grounds, the embowering trees, yellow and russet and red; rows of cottages showing their tops here and there; and far off, rimming it all, the misty, hazy mountain tops. "I'm going into the library," announced Frances, all the banter gone from her voice. "Have you been to breakfast?" in astonishment. "Haven't you? Oh! you are lazy! You must go at once. Mrs. Lancey won't save it for you." "Yes she will!" He followed her into the fairy white interior of the Rotunda, with its great pillars bearing above their Corinthian pilasters the carved circle on which were written the names of the giants of the book world. He had some faint desire to see before which of the cases she would pause. He was proud of his knowledge of his fellow beings, but this young woman puzzled him. It was a pleasure to his beauty-loving eyes to gaze on her--tall, slender, but well set up, frank-eyed, clear-skinned with an air of utter independence; the things he had heard her say and seen her do kept her from any place in his category. The long serge gown rustling softly on the marble pavement, she went straight to the books she wanted. It was late, and she wished to avoid the stream of students that would soon be setting roomwards and hallwards. She took down the volumes instantly--Fiske's "Old Virginia and her Neighbors," and Byrd's "History of the Dividing Line." If Lawson was astonished she gave him no chance to express it. "You must hurry to breakfast," she insisted as they went out. The young man looked down at the sunlit quadrangle. "Won't you go for a drive about ten?" he asked abruptly. "I'm going." He caught his breath, but before he could answer-- "Susan wants some chickens. I promised her I'd get them. You are not going out?" severely. "It's such a temptation!" "Young men who come all the way from Oregon come to study."