ttered an involuntary exclamation of impatience. Louis caught my hand,
and the moment she ended, whispered:

"Are you frightened?"

"Oh!" I said, "she is your guest, but where is her soul?"

"In heaven awaiting her, I suspect," he replied, "but, Miss Emily, she
is a fair type of a society woman. I have just been thinking that
to-morrow at sunset I hope to be among the birds and beneath the sky of
your native town; one can breathe there; I am glad to go."

"I don't want you to go," I said, impetuously (poor Emily did it).

He turned his full dark eyes upon me, and I felt the tide that flooded
cheek and brow with crimson.

"Explain to me, Miss Emily," he said, "you love to keep my mother
there."

"I did not mean to say it, Louis, but it is true."

"Why true?"

"I am so sorry--"

My dilemma was a queer one; I had to explain, and the tears that
gathered when his mother sang, came back as I described our plain home.

"I love my home, it is good enough for me, I could not exchange it even
with you, but you will think us rude, uncultivated people, I fear; you
will find no attraction there; everything is as homely there as I am
myself!"

And I never can forget how his bright, dark eyes grew humid with
sympathy, to be covered with the sunlight of his smile at the earnest
honesty of my remarks, especially the last one.

"Ah! Miss Emily, you know not your friend; I am more anxious than ever
to go, and care not if you are sorry."

"I am glad now of my unexpected speech," I replied, "and feel as if I
had really been to the confessional; your mother is so sensitive, I
could not tell her, and I have kept this thought constantly before me,
'He will not stay if he goes, and I am sure he cannot eat rye bread and
butter.'"

"You will see, Miss Emily, how I shall eat it, but we are to be
interrupted; here comes the soulless girl that shocked you so; mother is
with her; excuse me for a moment," and he made his way to a corner of
the parlors, seating himself alone as if in reverie.

"Mademoiselle Emily, my friend, Miss Lear, desires an introduction to
you; be seated, Miss Lear," and Clara took the chair on the other side;
the disappointment of Miss Lear, in not finding Louis, was visible, even
to my unpractised eye, and her tender enquiries of his mother regarding
his health etc., were amusing.

I saw her furtive glances at my plain toilette, and knew she thought me
a lowly wild flower on life's great meadow, a dandelio