the eye, some
worn and leaning against a shrub or tree for support, others new and white,
and glistening in the sunset. Several family vaults, unpretending in their
appearance, are perceived on a closer scrutiny, to which the plants usually
found in burial-grounds are clinging, shadowed too by large trees. The
walls where they are visible are worn and discolored, but they are almost
covered with ivy, clad in summer's deepest green. Many a stranger stopped
his horse in passing by to wonder at its look of other days; and some, it
may be, to wish they were sleeping in the shades of its mouldering walls.

The slight eminence on which the church was built, commanded a view of the
residences of several gentlemen of fortune who lived in the neighborhood.
To the nearest one, a gentleman on horseback was directing his way. The
horse required no direction, in truth, for so accustomed was he to the ride
to Exeter, and to the good fare he enjoyed on arriving there, that neither
whip nor spur was necessary; he traced the familiar road with evident
pleasure.

The house at Exeter was irregularly built; but the white stone wings and
the look-out over the main building gave an appearance of taste to the
mansion. The fine old trees intercepted the view, though adding greatly to
its beauty. The porter's lodge, and the wide lawn entered by its open
gates, the gardens at either side of the building, and the neatness and
good condition of the out-houses, all showed a prosperous state of affairs
with the owner. Soon the large porch with its green blinds, and the
sweetbrier entwining them, came in view, and the family party that occupied
it were discernible. Before Mr. Barbour had reached the point for alighting
from his horse, a servant stood in readiness to take charge of him, and
Alice Weston emerged from her hiding-place among the roses, with her usual
sweet words of welcome. Mr. Weston, the owner of the mansion and its
adjoining plantation, arose with a dignified but cordial greeting; and Mrs.
Weston, his sister-in-law, and Miss Janet, united with him in his kind
reception of a valued guest and friend.

Mr. Weston was a widower, with an only son; the young gentleman was at this
time at Yale College. He had been absent for three years; and so anxious
was he to graduate with honor, that he had chosen not to return to Virginia
until his course of study should be completed. The family had visited him
during the first year of his exile, as he