She had a confused feeling concerning Colonel Yancey which she was too young to analyze. He was only a little past forty, and had won his title of colonel in the Spanish war. She knew that her father, like most Southern men, trusted Colonel Yancey, simply because he also was a Southern man, when he would have been cautious with a Northerner. He spoke freely of the most intimate plans and dearest hopes of his life, with all the hearty, generous, open freedom of a great nature. Yet the watchful child saw something in Colonel Yancey’s eyes, especially when her father spoke of Guildford, and his passionate hope of the part it would play in Carolina’s future, which reminded the little girl of the look in the gray cat’s eyes when she pretended to fall asleep by the hole of a mouse. This feeling was too intangible for her to realize at first, but as years passed by, and Colonel Yancey’s business brought him to Paris every season while General Lee was ambassador, and when her father was transferred to the Court of St. James, even oftener, she grew better able to understand her childish fears. One day in London, when Carolina was about fifteen, Colonel Yancey made his appearance, dressed in deep mourning. Carolina did not hear the explanation made of his loss, but she resented vaguely yet consciously the glances he cast at her during dinner, and when her father whispered to her that the colonel had lost his wife and no questions were to be asked, her lip curled and her delicate nostrils dilated. She listened with more than her usual attention to the conversation which followed, and in after years it often came to her mind, and never without giving her some help. Colonel Yancey opened the conversation with an inexplicable remark. "When I hear you talk, captain, I always feel sorry for you." Carolina lifted her head with instant hauteur, but her father only smiled and knocked the ashes from his cigar. "Yes, an enthusiast of my type is always to be pitied," he said, gently. "Not entirely that," responded Colonel Yancey. "In some strong characters, their enthusiasms only indicate their weak points, but it is not so in your case. It is rather that you have idealized your homesickness." "I am homesick," said Captain Lee, "for what I never had." "Exactly. Now you left Guildford when you were a mere lad, so it is largely your father’s opinion of the South--your father’s love for the old place that you have inherited and made your own, just as, in Miss Carolina’s case, it is wholly vicarious. Have you any idea of the deterioration your own little town of Enterprise has suffered?" "I suppose you are right," said Captain Lee. "I hope, then," said Colonel Yancey, slowly, "that you will never go back South to live, especially to Enterprise." Carolina’s sensitive face flushed, but she was too well bred to interrupt. "You mean," said Captain Lee, with a keen glance at his friend, "that I would find the South a disappointment?"