say you to that?" asked the haughty beauty.

"It is my desire to think chiefly at present of the study on which my
heart is set," was the sensible reply; "but," Lionel added, more hotly,
"I want to follow the course I have marked out, and I will!"

There was ever something about the warm air of the South that made her
sons impetuous in speech, yet they were also chivalrous, gentle to the
weak, and kind and courteous in speech.

So when Rosamond began to cry and to say, "What need to be so harsh with
a poor little cousin who meant no harm?" Lionel exclaimed:

"Forgive me, Rosamond, I meant not to be unkind. But I feel within me
the need of preparation such as is before me. Yet I would not be too
hasty in speech. I pray you, forgive me, dear."

"Ah, how sweet is the spirit of my Fairy Prince," smiled Sally. "Who
would not love so gentle a voice, and one who so quickly says
'forgive'?"

Then she looked around with the scared expression always quick to come
over her face whenever she dared to say or to think, "My Fairy Prince."

Nearly every evening after this, Sally would hover near the arbor, but
so warm was the weather that the young people would go in the family
coach for long drives, while Sir Percival and Lady Gabrielle would start
away in the shay, taking their slower way through sweet, grassy roads,
along by the quiet dingle and flowery dell.

Then off would roam Sally, perhaps loitering around fair Ingleside, or
returning to her beloved pine woods and leafy oak-tree.

One evening, as Sally was returning through Lover's Lane, she saw Mammy
Leezer coming toward her, and very glad she was to meet the good-looking
old colored woman. Mammy came on with her usual slow step, and said, as
Sally drew near:

"Hot, isn't it, honey?"

"Yes, it is hot," Sally made answer, "but this is a pretty evening for
those who can go riding."

Mammy tossed her independent old head.

"Neber you fret 'bout dose as hev kerridges to tote 'em," she said.
"You's jus' as good as some folkses dat rides all de time."

"Oh, but it is nice to be born to fine things," said Sally, with a
little laugh.

"How'd you know what you's borned to?" asked Mammy, with another toss of
her head. "You doan't b'long to dat Slipside Row no more'n nothin'. I've
heah tell o' your pappy. If he had done live' you'd be gettin' learnin'
all dis time, shor! You oughten be gettin' it now."

Mammy had sunk down on a low stump and took on an air of importanc