“Here, my dear—not this place, but all around you. This was Mrs. Stamper’s—one of our poor neighbors. But we lived at Red Rock.” “Oh!” said Ruth, shocked at having asked the question. “No matter, my dear,” the old lady went on. “Since we moved we have lived at a little place right on the road. You must come over and let me show you my roses there. But I don’t think they will ever be equal to the old ones—or what the old ones were, for I hear they are nearly all gone now—I have never been back since I left. I do not think I could stand seeing that—person in possession of my father’s and my brother’s estate.” She sighed for the first time, and for the first time the needles, as she leant back, stopped. “I wrapped up my glasses to keep from seeing it as we drove up the hill. I wish they might let me lie there when I die, but I know they will not.” Her gaze was out of the open door. In the silence which followed her words the sound of a horse’s hoofs was heard. “There is someone outside, my dear,” she said, placidly. Both Ruth and Blair looked out. “Why, it is the General,” said Blair, and Ruth wondered who the General was, and wondered yet more to detect something very much like a flutter in Miss Thomasia’s manner. Her hand went to her bonnet; to her throat; she smoothed her already smooth skirts, and glanced around—ending in a little appealing look to Blair. It was almost as if a white dove, represented in some sacred mystery, had suddenly lost tranquillity. When, however, the new visitor reached the door, Miss Thomasia was quietude itself. He stepped up to the door and gave a tap with the butt of his riding-switch before he was aware of the presence of the three ladies; then he took off his hat. “Ladies,” he said, with quite a grand bow. At the same moment, both of the ladies who knew him, spoke, but Ruth heard only Miss Thomasia’s words: “My dear, this is General Legaie, of whom you have often heard, our old and valued friend.” Ruth had never heard of him, but she was struck by him. He was not over five feet three inches high: not as tall by several inches as Ruth herself; but his head, with curling white hair, was so set on his shoulders, his form was so straight and vigorous, and his countenance, with its blue eyes and fine mouth, so handsome and self-contained, that Ruth thought she had never seen a more martial figure. She thought instinctively of a portrait she had once seen of a French Marshal; and when the General made his sweeping bow and addressed her with his placid voice in old-fashioned phrase as, “Madam,” the illusion was complete. Why, he was absolutely stately. Then he addressed Miss Thomasia and Blair, making each of them a bow and a compliment with such an old-fashioned courtesy that Ruth felt as if she were reading a novel.