“It’s young Lord Waring,” said Mrs. Gaston, with animation. “He is attached to the British Legation--the minister’s nephew, I believe. And so that was Alan Decourcy! What a charming young man! I wonder how Louis could be rude to a man like that.” It was Margaret’s usual habit to pass over such remarks as this from Cousin Eugenia, as she was convinced of the fruitlessness of argument in her case; but this speech touched her on such a sore point that she could not help saying, in rather keen tones: “A man who could be rude to any one whomsoever, must be somewhat difficult to count upon, I should think. He must be often puzzled to decide whom to treat civilly and whom to snub.” “Oh, there you go, with your high-flown Southern notions,” retorted Mrs. Gaston, with imperturbable good-humor. “You’re your father’s own child! But we must have this elegant young man to dinner. Do you happen to know if he is engaged for this evening?” “No,” said Margaret, “I didn’t hear him say.” “He will probably call during the day.” “No, he will not,” said Margaret, decidedly. “He told me he should not see me again before going to Baltimore. But he is to make arrangements for me to go over for a little visit soon, and I shall see him then.” “Nonsense! He’s to come and see you at my house, and he’s to make friends with us all. Louis has been in the wrong, and he shall be made to see it. Leave that to me. I shall write young Decourcy a note as soon as I get home; and you shall write too, and endorse my invitation.” Margaret felt very anxious that her cousin should come and dine at the Gastons’, but she seriously doubted his willingness to do so. Despite his perfect courtesy, there had been something in his manner toward Louis Gaston that made it clear that he did not desire to improve the latter’s acquaintance, and she wanted him to see that in the interview he had had with Gaston he had seen Louis at his worst, and to realize that he had a better side. And, on the other hand, she wanted the Gastons to see Alan Decourcy as a specimen of a Southern gentleman, who not only possessed, by inheritance, all the instincts and traditions that she clung to and respected, but who, in addition to these, had had sufficient contact with the world to get rid of that colossal belief in himself and his own methods and manners, as the only commendable ones, which she felt to be one of the chief failings of her countrymen. She had been too long accustomed to the arrogant assumption that a Southern man had better take the wrong way in any issue than learn the right way from a Yankee, not to rejoice in the prospect of presenting to her friends a young Southerner who was really enlightened, and who, if he loved his own land best, did so because he had compared it with others, and not because he was ignorant of everything beyond it.