“Come, and welcome,” said Margaret, heartily; and then, as a consciousness of the warmth of her tone dawned upon her, she added: “We are a hospitable race, you know, and hold it a sacred duty to entertain strangers. But I fear you would find us disappointing in a great many ways. In so many points, and these very essential ones, we are inferior to you. If only we could both get rid of our prejudices! Just think what a people we might be, if we were kneaded together, each willing to assimilate what is best in the other! But I suppose that is a Utopian dream. As far as my small observation goes, it seems to me that we in the South see things on a broader basis, and that a gentleman’s claim to meet another gentleman on equal terms rests upon something higher and stronger than trifling technicalities such as using printed visiting-cards, or calling a dress-coat ‘a swallow-tail,’ for instance!” she said, with twinkling eyes. “I know you’ve had those two scores against my compatriots on your mind. Now, haven’t you?” “I will wipe them off instantly, if I have,” he said, laughing. “I feel amiably disposed to-night. I think it is the prospect of your departure that has softened me. I hope you are one little bit sorry to leave us. It would be but a small return for the colossal regret we feel at parting from you.” “I am sorry,” she said, with her eyes fixed on the fire--“very, very sorry.” “Really?” he said quickly, not daring to give voice to the delight with which her fervently uttered admission filled him. “Yes, really. You have all been so good to me. I think General Gaston has even decided to forgive me for being a Southerner, since I could not possibly help it, which is a higher tribute than the regard of Cousin Eugenia and yourself, perhaps, as you had no prejudices to overcome.” “You have paid me the greatest possible compliment,” said Louis. “I would rather you should say that than anything, almost. You must admit, however, that at one time you would not have said it.” “That is quite true; but I think now that I did you injustice.” “No, I don’t think you did. It was true at one time that I was very prejudiced, and to a certain extent it is true yet; but you’ve worked wonders with me, Miss Trevennon. I do think I see things more fairly than I did. I had a great deal of hereditary and inherent prejudice to overcome, and I think I have got rid of a good portion of it, thanks to you! Who knows but, if you could have kept me near you, you might have reformed me yet? Of course, I should not venture to criticise a decision of yours, but when Eugenia urged you so, the other day, to stay a month longer, do you know, I almost held my breath to hear what you would say? And your positive refusal quite cut me. It’s rather hard on a man, to learn that his education is to be cut short at one fell blow like that; and I am in horrible fear of retrogression.”