ad,
and parted with its horses to the huge stone stable under the house. The
mingling languages of an English and French society sounded all around
her. The girl felt bewildered, as if she had crossed ocean and forest to
find, instead of savage wilderness, an enchanted English county full of
French country estates. Names and dignitaries crowded her memory.

A great clear glass, gilt-framed and divided into three panels, stood
over the drawing-room mantel. It reflected crowds of animated faces, as
the dance began, crossing and recrossing or running the reel in a vista
of rooms, the fan-lights around the hall door and its open leaves
disclosing the broad gallery and the dusky world of trees outside; it
reflected cluster on cluster of wax-lights. To this day the great glass
stands there, and, spotless as a clear conscience, waits upon the
future. It has held the image of Lafayette and many an historic
companion of his.

On the other side of the hall, in the dining-room, stood a carved
mahogany sideboard holding decanters and glasses. In this quiet retreat
elderly people amused themselves at card-tables. Apart from them, but
benignantly ready to chat with everybody, sat the parish priest; for
every gathering of his flock was to him a call for social ministration.

A delicious odor of supper escaped across a stone causeway from the
kitchen, and all the Menard negroes, in their best clothes, were
collected on the causeway to serve it. Through open doors they watched
the flying figures, and the rocking of many a dusky heel kept time to
the music.

The first dance ended in some slight confusion. A little cry went
through the rooms: "Rice Jones's sister has fainted!" "Mademoiselle
Zhone has fainted!" But a few minutes later she was sitting on a
gallery chair, leaning against her brother and trying to laugh through
her coughing, and around her stood all girlish Kaskaskia, and the
matrons also, as well as the black maid Colonel Menard had sent with
hartshorn.

Father Olivier brought her a glass of wine; Mrs. Edwards fanned her; the
stars shone through the pecan-trees, and all the loveliness of this new
hemisphere and home and the kindness of the people made her close her
eyes to keep the tears from running out. The separation of the sick from
all healthy mankind had never so hurt her. Something was expected of
her, and she was not equal to it. She felt death's mark branding in, and
her family spoke of her recovery! What foll