ard from
Sally Hampton. More Charleston news!--One for Molly, three for Unity,
five for Judith--"

"Miss Judith jes' sont er 'lumination by one of de chillern at de gate.
She an' Marse Maury Stafford'll be back by five. Dey ain' gwine ride
furder'n Monticello."

"Very well. Mr. Stafford will be here to supper, then. Hairston
Breckinridge, too, I imagine. Tell Car'line."

Miss Lucy readdressed the letters for her brother, a year older than
herself, and the master of Greenwood, a strong Whig influence in his
section of the State, and now in Richmond, in the Convention there,
speaking earnestly for amity, a better understanding between Sovereign
States, and a happily restored Union. His wife, upon whom he had
lavished an intense and chivalric devotion, was long dead, and for years
his sister had taken the head of his table and cared like a mother for
his children.

She sat now, at work, beneath the portrait of her own mother. As good as
gold, as true as steel, warm-hearted and large-natured, active, capable,
and of a sunny humour, she kept her place in the hearts of all who knew
her. Not a great beauty as had been her mother, she was yet a handsome
woman, clear brunette with bright, dark eyes and a most likable mouth.
Miss Lucy never undertook to explain why she had not married, but her
brothers thought they knew. She finished the letters and gave them to
Julius. "Let Easter's Jim take them right away, in time for the evening
train.--Have you seen Miss Unity?"

"Yaas, ma'am. Miss Unity am in de flower gyarden wid Marse Hairston
Breckinridge. Dey're training roses."

"Where is Miss Molly?"

"Miss Molly am in er reverence over er big book in de library."

The youngest Miss Cary's voice floated in from the hall. "No, I'm not,
Uncle Julius. Open the door wider, please!" Julius obeyed, and she
entered the drawing-room with a great atlas outspread upon her arms.
"Aunt Lucy, where _are_ all these places? I can't find them. The Island
and Fort Moultrie and Fort Sumter and Fort Pickens, and the rest of
them! I wish when bombardments and surrenders and exciting things happen
they'd happen nearer home!"

"Child, child!" cried Miss Lucy, "don't you ever say such a thing as
that again! The way you young people talk is enough to bring down a
judgment upon us! It's like Sir Walter crying 'Bonny bonny!' to the
jagged lightnings. You are eighty years away from a great war, and you
don't know what you are talking about, and may