Mr. Sutherland immediately assented. They turned their horses’ heads, and taking another path, rode in a circuit around to the site of the stables, which lay at some distance to the right of the mansion house, and were concealed from the latter by an intervening arm of the grove. The stables were built in the most approved modern style, with much architectural beauty, and possessed every requisite for the health and comfort of the noble animals for whose accommodation they were designed. Here again Lauderdale expressed no opinion, but asked to see—don’t start, super-refined reader—the pig pens. Mark, with a queer smile, conducted his guest to the desired premises; and also, without waiting to be solicited, introduced him to the cow pens, the hen house, etc. All these buildings had been constructed under the direction of a celebrated English rural architect, and of course were fitted with every modern improvement for the well-being of the stock. Still Lauderdale as yet reserved his judgment, while he expressed his thanks to his host for the privilege he had enjoyed. Sutherland mischievously asked him whether he would not also like to see the pigeon boxes before dinner. Lauderdale smilingly declined, and they returned to the house. They alighted from their saddles and threw the reins to the groom, entered the hall, and separated to dress for dinner. Half an hour after, when they met in the drawing-room, Lauderdale advanced to his host, and said,— “Sutherland, I must thank you again for the sight of your plantation arrangements! and I must say that _all_ your stock—horses, cows, and pigs, and slaves—are probably the best accommodated of any in the state!” Mark Sutherland, with a flushed brow, turned away. But in an instant, Lauderdale laid his hand upon his arm, and said, with a voice and manner full of affectionate earnestness— “I mean to say just _this_, dear Mark—that your negro village is comfortable, and even exceedingly beautiful, but that no amount of physical comfort can or _ought_ to compensate an immortal being for the loss of liberty!” The entrance of other members of the family and the speedy announcement of dinner ended this conversation for the present. Haggard, careworn, anxious, as he was, the deep, ever-springing fountain of gladness in Mark Sutherland’s heart dispersed all his gloom; and, during dinner, when the jest and laugh went round, _he_ was as usual the spring of wit and humour to the party. After dinner, when he was about to seek an interview with his betrothed, Mrs. Vivian forestalled him, by carrying off Miss Sutherland to examine a box of goods, lately arrived from New Orleans for the bride elect. And Mr. Bolling, leaving Sutherland, senior, to entertain the guest, ran his arm through that of Mark, and marched him off in triumph.