"Thanks, yes; I'll go directly. Mother, why not ask the boys of the guard to stop over for your party? They are of Phil Masterson's company--all Carolina men." "Of course, I shall invite them personally," and she left the room to speak to the men who were just finishing breakfast under an arbor, and congratulating themselves on the good luck of being travelling companions of Colonel McVeigh. Evilena waltzed around the table in her delight at the entire arrangement; boys in uniform; the longed-for additions to the festivities, and they would have to be a formidable lot if she could not find one of their number worth dancing with; she would show Dr. Delaven that other men did not think her only a baby to be teased! "Now, Madame Caron, we can show you a regular plantation jubilee, for the darkies shall have a dance at the quarters. You'll like that, won't you?" "Anything that expresses the feminine homage to returning heroes," replied Judithe, with a little bow of affected humility, at which Colonel McVeigh laughed as he returned it. She passed out of the door with his sister and he stood looking after her, puzzled, yet with hope in his eyes. His impetuousness in plunging into the very heart of the question at once had, at any rate, not angered her, which was a great point gained. He muttered an oath when he realized that but for the Countess Biron's gossip they might never have been separated, for she did love him then--he knew it. Even today, when she would have run away from him again, she did not deny _that_! Forty-eight hours in which to win her--and his smile as he watched her disappear had a certain grim determination in it. He meant to do it. She had grown white when he quoted to her her own never forgotten words. Well, she should say them to him again! The hope of it sent the blood leaping to his heart, and he turned away with a quick sigh. Gertrude, who had only stepped out on the veranda when she left the table, and stood still by the open glass door, saw the lingering, intense gaze with which he followed the woman she instinctively disliked--the woman who was now mistress of Loringwood, and had made the purchase as carelessly as though it were a new ring to wear on her white hand--a new toy to amuse herself with in a new country; the woman who threw money away on whims, had the manner of a princess, and who had aroused in Gertrude Loring the first envy or jealousy she had ever been conscious of in her pleasant, well-ordered life. From the announcement that Loringwood had passed into the stranger's possession her heart had felt like lead in her bosom. She could not have explained why--it was more a presentiment of evil than aught else, and she thought she knew the reason of it when she saw that look in Kenneth McVeigh's eyes--a look she had never seen there before.