A southerly wind was sending great rolls of fog before it as Mr. Swain and I, with Banks, crossed over to Kent Island on the ferry the next morning. We traversed the island, and were landed by the other ferry on the soil of my native county, Queen Anne's. In due time we cantered past Master Dingley's tavern, the sight of which gave me a sharp pang, for it is there that the by-road turns over the bridge to Carvel Hall and Wilmot House; and force of habit drew my reins to the right across the horse's neck, so that I swerved into it. The barrister had no word of comment when I overtook him again. 'Twas about two o'clock when we came to the gate Mr. Swain had erected at the entrance to his place; the land was a little rolling, and partly wooded, like that on the Wye. But the fields were prodigiously unkempt. He drew up, and glanced at me. “You will see there is much to be done with such fallows as these,” said he. “The lessees from his Lordship were sportsmen rather than husbandmen, and had an antipathy to a constable or a sheriff like a rat to a boar cat. That is the curse of some of your Eastern Shore gentlemen, especially in Dorchester,” he added; “they get to be fishmongers.” Presently we came in sight of the house, long and low, like the one in Gloucester Street, with a new and unpainted wing just completed. That day the mist softened its outline and blurred the trees which clustered about it. Even as we swung into the circle of the drive a rounded and youthful figure appeared in the doorway, gave a little cry, and stood immovable. It was Patty, in a striped dimity gown with the sleeves rolled up, and her face fairly shone with joy as I leaped from my horse and took her hands. “So you like my surprise, girl?” said her father, as he kissed her blushing face. For answer she tore herself away, and ran through the hall to the broad porch in front. “Our barrister is come, mother,” we heard her exclaiming, “and whom do you think he has brought?” “Is it Richard?” asked the gentler voice, more hastily than usual. I stepped out on the porch, where the invalid sat in her armchair. She was smiling with joy, too, and she held out her wasted hands and drew me toward her, kissing me on both cheeks. “I thank God for His goodness,” said she. “And the boy has come to stay, mother,” said her husband, as he stooped over her. “To stay!” cries Patty. “Gordon's Pride is henceforth his home,” replied the barrister. “And now I can return in peace to my musty law, and know that my plantation will be well looked after.” Patty gasped. “Oh, I am so glad!” said she, “I could almost rejoice that his uncle cheated him out of his property. He is to be factor of Gordon's Pride?” “He is to be master of Gordon's Pride, my dear,” says her father, smiling and tilting her chin; “we shall have no such persons as factors here.”