By the time that the rainy season came to an end and the sun of the Indian summer shone out again, Colonel de Crespigney’s books were all unpacked, catalogued, and restored to their niches in the newly furnished library; Miss de la Vera’s personal effects were inspected and arranged, and Miss de Crespigney’s preparations for her departure were complete. “I have reconstructed your household government, and trained your servants so well in the seven years that I have passed in this house, Marcel, that now I think affairs will run quite smoothly in the present groove with only the nominal mistress of the house that the little countess will make. I think, however, that you should take your niece to Washington in December, and spend the fashionable season there with her, where she may have some opportunity of marriage, suitable to her rank and wealth,” said Miss de Crespigney to the colonel in a _tête-à-tête_ she held with him on the day before she was to leave the promontory. “Gloria is but sixteen. There is time enough five years hence to think of marrying her off,” replied Colonel de Crespigney, wincing, for he was less inclined than ever to display his treasure to the world; more disposed than before to keep her all to himself. Late in the day, Miss de Crespigney said to the young lady: “You must make your uncle take you to Washington for the season, my dear. It is not right that you should be buried in your youth in this remote and solitary home. You are the Countess de la Vera, and should be brought in society suited to your rank. My sister-in-law, Madame de Crespigney, will be in Washington this winter. She has no unmarried daughters of her own, and I am sure she would feel honored to chaperone the Countess Gloria. Make your uncle take you to Washington this winter, my dear.” “Oh, Aunt Agrippina, I thank you for your kindness in thinking about me so much, and I assure you that Marcel would do anything to please me without being made to do it; but really I do want to stay home and be quiet this winter. Ever since I left school—the first of July—I have been going to places all the time. I am so tired of going to so many places and seeing so many things. I don’t want to go away again for ever so long. I want to stay here and see all my dee-ar old friends and live the dee-ar old times over again,” pleaded Gloria. “My child, you can never live the old times over again any more than you can go back to your baby-hood and live that over again. And as for old friends, Gloria, you have none.” “Oh, yes! there is dee-ar Granny Lindsay and David Lindsay!” “Not the right sort of friends for the Countess de la Vera. But there is all the more reason why you should go to Washington. I will speak to my nephew again on the subject,” said Miss de Crespigney. And she did speak to the colonel that same afternoon, but without effect. No doubt if she had stayed longer she might have gained her point,