its uniqueness, but occasionally it’s a little bit exasperating. Who but Louis, for instance, would have lived all these weeks in the same house with a charming girl like you without falling, at least a little, in love with her? For you are a charming girl, my dear, and Louis accurately appreciates the fact; but there it ends. At first I thought I saw signs of a speedy capitulation, but it came to nothing. I ought to have known the frogginess of my brother-in-law better. I should have liked Louis to fall in love with you, no matter how it ended. It would have been nice to have you for a sister and neighbor, and if that was not to be, it would have been a satisfaction to see Louis stirred out of his eternal calm, and concerning himself about something over and above designs and estimates. But I am afraid I am never to have the supreme delight of seeing Louis love-lorn. And you, my dear,” said Cousin Eugenia, turning to look at her, “I begin to fear you’re not very far from being rather froggy yourself. It’s a very good thing that you’ve taken no more of a fancy to Louis, as it all turns out--(I fancied you, too, were in some danger at first!)--but I do wonder how you have kept so cool about that captivating young man, your cousin, with his sweet, caressing smiles and artful, foreign ways. The Mrs. Vere episode would have been rather a blow, I fear, if you had set your affections in that quarter.” “On the whole,” said Margaret, smiling, “it seems to me that I am escaping a good many breakers by remaining fancy free. But here we are at our destination.” And so the conversation ended. During this day--the one that followed the party--Margaret received a note from Charley Somers, bearing a Washington post-mark. Observing this, her first angry thought was to return it unopened, so indignant was she at his persistence, and when she presently decided to read it, its humble and imploring tone did not mollify her in the least. Her letter of course had not reached him, and he had grown impatient and concluded not to wait to hear from her. She wrote him a few lines, declining explicitly to see him, feeling herself justified in taking so extreme a measure, as lesser ones had failed to repress the young man’s ardor. CHAPTER XV. On Christmas-eve, after dinner, as General and Mrs. Gaston, Miss Trevennon and Mr. Louis Gaston were seated around the drawing-room fire, a card of invitation was brought in by Thomas, and delivered to General Gaston. As he took it and scanned it through his glasses, a perceptible gleam of satisfaction came into his eyes, and he handed it to Mrs. Gaston, saying: “A card for General Morton’s supper.” “Indeed!” returned his wife, with a reflection of his gratified expression. “Really, this is very kind.”