Then they mounted the impatient horses and rode out in the pink flush of the morning--the only hours cool enough for the foreigners to exercise at that season. They were going no place in particular, but when the cross-country road was reached leading to Loringwood, she suddenly turned to him and proposed that he conduct her to her new purchase--introduce her to Loringwood. "With all the pleasure in life," he assented gaily, somewhat curious to see how she would like the "pig in a poke," as he designated her business transaction. When they reached the gate she dismounted and insisted on walking through the long avenue she had admired. He was going to lead the horses, but she said, "No, tie them to the posts there, they were both well behaved, tractable animals;" she could speak for her mount at any rate. Pluto had told her it was Col. McVeigh's favorite, trained by himself. She wore a thin silken veil of palest grey circling her hat, covering her face, and the end fastened in fluffy loops on her bosom. Her habit was of cadet grey, with a military dash of braid on epaulettes and cuff; the entire costume was perfect in its harmonious lines, and admirably adapted to the girlish yet stately figure. Delaven, looking at her, thought that in all the glories of the Parisian days he had never seen la belle Marquise more delightful to the eye than on that oft-to-be-remembered September morning. She was unusually silent as they walked along the avenue, but her eyes were busy and apparently pleased at the prospect before her, and when they reached the front of the house she halted, surveyed the whole place critically, from the lazy wash of the river landing to the great pillars of the veranda, and drew a little breath of content. "Just what I expected," she remarked, in reply to his question. "I hope the river is not too shallow. Can we go in? I should like to, but not as the owner, please. They need not know of the sale until the Lorings choose to tell them." Little Raquel had opened the door, very much pleased at their arrival. She informed them "Aunt Chloe laid up with some sort of misery, and Betsey, who was in the cook-house, she see them comen' an' she have some coffee for them right off," and she was proceeding with other affairs of entertainment when Judithe interrupted: "No coffee, nothing for me. Now, Doctor, if you want to show me the library; you know we must not linger, this is to be a busy day at the Terrace." They had gone through the lower rooms, of which she had little to say. He had shown her the dashing portrait of Marmeduke Loring and given her a suggestion of the character as heard from Nelse. He had shown her the pretty, seraphic portrait of Gertrude as a little child, and the fair, handsome face of Tom Loring, as it looked down from the canvas with a smile for all the world in his genial eyes.