Preceded by the lady, they entered the house, and passed into a front parlour, and at her cold invitation, which seemed more like a strained and reluctant permission granted, they took seats. Nothing could be more deeply disagreeable and embarrassing than the next few minutes. Mrs. Sutherland took her sofa in perfect silence, turned her face towards them with a look of cold enquiry, and assumed the air of waiting to hear what might be their business with her—what they might have to communicate. This was very perplexing. They did not come on business—indeed, they were made to feel that _they had no business there_. They had come to be entertained, and comforted, and compensated, after the Clement Sutherland infliction. They had nothing particular to answer to that cold, questioning look, except Lauderdale, who, cool as his own clime, informed Mrs. Sutherland that the day was “very fine.” The lady bowed in silent assent. “The weather for many days past has been very pleasant,” continued Lincoln, without the least embarrassment. “Yes—I think the present state of the atmosphere highly favourable to _travelling_,” said the lady. “Your climate here, madam, is not near so sultry as we of the North have supposed it to be,” persevered Lincoln. “Hem—yet at this season we think it too hot to be wholesome to you of the North,” said the lady, with a curling lip. “Humph,” thought Lauderdale, “your courtesy, madam, is cold enough to cool the hottest hour of the hottest day, in the hottest clime under the sun.” But, turning to his friend Mark, said— “Sutherland, if madame will excuse us, will you be kind enough to let me have my room?” And Mark, released from the vice into which he had felt himself compressed for the last ten minutes, very gladly sprang up to accompany him. Lauderdale bowed to Mrs. Sutherland, with some pardonable formality of ceremony, perhaps, as they left the parlour. When they had reached Lincoln’s chamber, in the second story, Mark threw himself into a chair, and covered his face with his hands. Lincoln went calmly to work, packing up his wardrobe. After a while, seeing that Sutherland kept his attitude of humiliation, he went up to him, clapped him upon the shoulder cheerfully, and said— “_Never_ mind, my dear Mark! _never_ mind! You take this to heart far more than necessary. Now, I dare say that one of your hot-blooded, fire-eating Mississippians, treated as I have been, would call somebody out, and do something desperate; but I really do not feel obliged to do anything of the sort.” “_I_ am a Mississippian—do you consider _me_ a very hot-blooded person? Am I not rather a miserable poltroon, to see my friend and guest outraged and insulted as you have been?”