long, that he could read human character almost like a book. He was satisfied in his mind that Elsie's attorney had succumbed to Octavia's charms, and he would await developments with anxiety. This attorney was young and handsome and already had gained a lucrative practice at the bar, and was still adding fame to his laurels. Notwithstanding her short acquaintance, Octavia confessed secretly that she was favorably impressed with him, but at the same time, she knew that social barriers would prevent his paying her and she receiving his attentions. At the appointed time, he was ringing the bell for admittance, which was answered by Elsie, who invited him into the parlor. Octavia soon came in, when he told her that he had come to have the pleasure of hearing her play and sing, and to inspect her art collection. She gave him a cordial greeting, saying that he flattered her, but, that if she had any talent for music and art, he was welcome to witness and hear the same. He expressed himself as delighted with her paintings; and then requested her to play and sing. She rendered her graduating recital in music, on the piano. He thought it grand and magnificent, and requested her to sing, which she did, using the organ first, and then, guitar, as an accompaniment. He was charmed, and said that he had never heard her equal. That her voice was sweet, but not inaudible; melodious, but not husky; loud, but not boisterous; clear and harmonious; and that but few prima donnas, who were delighting thousands, by their voices on the stage, came up to her standard of singing. On leaving, he asked the pleasure of again calling, that he had often heard of her, but had not had the pleasure of meeting her until their brief introduction the day before at her uncle's store--but, that now, he had come, seen and heard, and was conquered. He said that like the "Queen of Sheba," he could also say, that "the half had not been told." She politely replied that the proprieties of Southern social life would not permit a social call from him on her, but that if it was any pleasure, he might come and hear her play and sing, and to inspect her paintings--he might do so, but not in a social way. He thanked her, and left, and on his way home, hurled anathemas against social laws, so far as they separated him and Octavia. Of course, he knew it would not do for the races to intermingle and commingle, indiscriminately. But Octavia was so near pure white, that it amounted to "a distinction without a difference." That he was passionately in love with Octavia there was no doubt. What must he do? What would the effect of these visits, if known, have on his practice? He was not wholly indifferent to public opinion, and while he knew what the opinion would be, he was determined to hear Octavia play and sing, let the consequences be what they may.