At first, ’Lina thought nothing could keep her tears back, they gathered so fast in her eyes, and her voice trembled so that she could not answer the servant’s question, “Soup, madam, soup?” But he of the white hand did it for her. “Of course she’ll take soup,” then in an aside, he said to her gently, “Never mind, you are not the first lady who has been served in that way. It’s quite a common occurrence.” There was something reassuring in his voice, and turning toward him ’Lina caught the gleam of the golden glasses, and knew that her _vis-à-vis_ up stairs was also her right-hand neighbor. How grateful she felt for his kind attentions, paid so delicately, and with an evident desire to shield her from remark, and how she wondered who he was, as he tried, by numberless unobtrusive acts, to quiet her. Kind and gentle as a woman, Irving Stanley was sometimes laughed at by his own sex, as too gentle, too feminine in disposition; but those who knew him best loved him most, and loved him, too, just because he was not so stern, so harsh, so overbearing as men are wont to be. A woman was a sacred piece of mechanism to him—a something to be petted, humored and caressed, and still treated as an equal. The most considerate of sons, the most affectionate of brothers, he was idolized at home, while the society in which he mingled, knew no greater favorite, and ’Lina might well be thankful that her lot was cast so near him. He did not talk to her at the table further than a few commonplace remarks, but when after dinner was over, and his Havana smoked, he found her sitting with her mother out in the grove, apart from everybody, and knew that they were there alone, he went to them, and ere many minutes had elapsed discovered to his surprise that they were his so called cousins from Kentucky. Nothing could exceed ’Lina’s delight. He was there unfettered by mother or sister or sweetheart, and of course would attach himself exclusively to her. ’Lina was very happy, and more than once her loud laugh rang out so loud that Irving, with all his charity, had a faint suspicion that round his Kentucky cousin, there might linger a species of coarseness, not altogether agreeable to one of his refinement. Still he sat chatting with her until the knowing dowagers, who year after year watch such things at Saratoga, whispered behind their fans of a flirtation between the elegant Mr. Stanley and that haughty looking girl from Kentucky. “I never saw him so familiar with a stranger upon so short an acquaintance,” said Mrs. Buford, whose three daughters would any one of them have exchanged their name for Stanley. “I wonder if he knew her before. Upon my word, that laugh of hers is rather coarse, let her be who she will.”