"Well, if you will go with us when we look over the estate, I can tell you better than I can now. Do you happen to know anything about this new process of making turpentine?" "Of course I do," said La Grange, with a frown. "I suppose that your brother and his friends have organized a company with Northern capital to erect a plant which will make everybody rich. That’s what all Northerners tell us when they want us to invest. Money is all Yankees seem to think about." "My brother will have nothing to do with the affair at all!" said Carolina, with some heat. "Guildford is mine, and I’m going to make it pay for itself." Moultrie said nothing, but his chin quivered with a desire to laugh, and Carolina saw it. Then he turned to her. "You have never seen the home of your ancestors? How are you going to have your first view of it? From the Barnwells’ carryall?" Carolina’s eyes dilated and she bit her lip. "How else could I go?" she said, gently. "If you would allow me," he said, eagerly, "we would go on horseback,--just you and I,--early, early in the morning. It would be the best time. Will you?" "Oh, will you take me?" cried Carolina. There was only a look from Moultrie La Grange’s eyes for an answer. But Carolina’s flashed and wavered and dropped before it. "Did you ever hear of a magnificent horse your grandfather owned, named Splendour?" he asked, quietly. "Ah, yes, indeed." "Well, I own a direct descendant of the sire of that very animal. Her name is Scintilla, and my friend, Barney Mazyck, owns Scintilla’s full sister, a mare named Araby. I’ll borrow her for you. Would you like that?" "Oh, Mr. La Grange!" breathed Carolina. "Please _never_ call me that. Do let me claim kin with you sufficiently to have you call me ’Moultrie.’" "And will you call me ’Carolina?’" she asked, shyly. "We never do that down here with young ladies, unless we are own cousins. But I will call you ’Miss Carolina,’ if I may." "Then you are asking me to take more of a privilege than you will," said Carolina. "I want you to take every privilege with me that you can permit yourself," he said, earnestly. When Carolina went indoors that night, the first thing she did was to take two candlesticks, and, holding them at arm’s length above her head, to study her own face in the great pier-glass which, in its carved mahogany frame, occupied one corner of her large bedchamber. Whatever the picture was which she saw reflected there, it seemed to give her pleasure, for she coloured and smiled as her eyes met those of the girl in the mirror. "I am glad _he_ thinks so!" she whispered to herself, as she turned away. CHAPTER XIII. GUILDFORD Carolina never forgot that morning. She was up at four o’clock, and, by a previous arrangement with old Aunt Calla, the cook, she had a cup of coffee at dawn. Aunt Calla brought it into the dining-room herself.