As he reached the outskirts of town and rode on toward the governor's mansion, his mood changed, and he laughed softly, for he remembered Ardmore, and Ardmore was beyond question the most amusing person he knew. It was unfortunate, he generously reflected, that Ardmore, rather than himself, had not been plunged into this present undertaking, which was much more in Ardmore's line than his own. There would, however, be a great satisfaction in telling Ardmore of his unexpected visit to Columbia, in exchange for his friend's report of his pursuit of the winking eye. He only regretted that in the nature of things Columbia is a modern city, a seat of commerce as well as of government, a place where bank clearings are seriously computed, and where the jaunty adventurer with sword and ruffles is quite likely to run afoul of the police. Yet his own imagination was far more fertile than Ardmore's, and he would have hailed a troop of mail-clad men as joyfully as his friend had he met them clanking in the highway. Thus, modern as we think ourselves, the least venturesome among us dreams that some day some turn of a street corner will bring him face to face with what we please to call our fate; and this is the manifestation of our last drop of medieval blood. The grimmest seeker after reality looks out of the corner of his eye for the flutter of a white handkerchief from the ivied tower he affects to ignore; and, in spite of himself, he is buoyed by the hope that some day a horn will sound for him over the nearest hill. Miss Osborne met him at the veranda steps. Indoors a mandolin and piano struck up the merry chords of _The Eutaw Girl_. "My young sisters have company. We'll sit here, if you don't mind." She led the way to a quiet corner, and after they were seated she was silent a moment, while the light from the windows showed clearly that her perplexity of the morning was not yet at an end. The music tinkled softly, and a breeze swept in upon them with faint odors of the garden. "I hope you won't mind, Mr. Griswold, if I appear to be ashamed of you. It's not a bit hospitable to keep you outside our threshold; but--you understand--I don't have to tell you!" "I understand perfectly, Miss Osborne!" "It seems best not to let the others know just why you are here. I told my sisters that you were an old friend--of father's--who wished to leave a message for him." "That will do first rate!" he laughed. "My status is fixed. I know your father, but as for ourselves, we are not acquainted."