It was not for many moments that I stood alone in the hall after the departure of my Sue and my Buzz, before there entered my beloved Uncle, the General Robert, and also my beloved Gouverneur Faulkner, who came to stand, one upon the one side of me and one upon the other. "Sure you wouldn't like to take her along with you to-night, Governor?" again asked my Uncle, the General Robert, with a great fierceness but also a twinkling of the eye. "Only as far as your garden for a few minutes, General," answered my Gouverneur Faulkner with that laugh of a boy I had remarked once before up in those mountains of Old Harpeth, and he took my hand in his as if to lead me through one of the tall windows out into the fragrant night. "All right, take her and don't return her until you have to," remarked my Uncle, the General Robert, as he handed me in the direction of my Gouverneur Faulkner and immediately took his departure up the stairs. And it was under the light of the old moon, in the garden of those _grande dames_ Carruthers, that Roberta, Marquise of Grez and Bye, who is the last of their line, walked with the great gentleman who was and is her lover. Is it that those beautiful dead Grandmammas each planted her flowers in her own great happiness so that they would give forth a very tender perfume in which to enfold the wooings of their daughters then not come into the world? I think it is so, and I was thus enwrapped in their fragrance as I was in the arms of that great Gouverneur Faulkner. "Now I am a truth that I do love you," I made answer to a question that was pressed upon my lips. "His woman is God's gift of truth to a man," were the words that were heard by those listening flowers and Roberta, Marquise of Grez and Bye, who from a world at war had come home.