ner, returning at the same time to the game he was playing
with Frank.

"I never see ye drive, Ravenel," he cried, "but I think of the olden
days. Ye've a style all your own when you hold the lines. Wait a
minute! Wait a minute! I'm seized with rhyme." He stood silent, his eyes
drawn together at the corners, his gaze concentrated, glass in hand,
before he began with a hypnotic look and great lightness of bearing to
recite, waiting every little while for the right word to come to him:

"When Ravenel drives four-in-hand,
There's something in his style and way
That takes us to a by-gone day
Of statelier times and manners grand:
When ladies gay,
In bright array,
And patch and powder held their sway."

"I rather fancy that last!" he cried, repeating it:

"When ladies gay,
In bright array,
And patch and powder held their sway.

"When Ravenel drives four-in-hand,
The days of chivalry return,
Hearts with an old-time passion burn,
And lords and ladies fill the Strand,
Our thoughts in that old time abide
When Raleigh lived
And Rizzio died,
And fair Queen Mary sinned and sighed--
That olden land,
That golden land,
When Ravenel drives four-in-hand.

"To you, Mr. Ravenel!" he cried, draining his glass.

"Thank you, McDermott," Francis answered, with a pleased smile, "you
have, indeed, the gift of rhyme." And Katrine knew as Frank spoke that
his distrust of Dermott had been laid aside for the present, and that he
was in a state of mind to grant anything which Dermott might demand of
him.

The thought troubled her after she had left them together for the coffee
and cigars. She had believed for a long time, as she had told Frank in
the rose-garden, that Dermott was in Carolina on some business connected
with Ravenel, and she had an instinct that the affair was to be brought
to a head to-night.

From her place in the hall she could see that Dermott had brought his
chair around to Frank's side at the table, and she heard him say:

"You know--or probably, with your celestial indifference to business
affairs, Ravenel, you don't know that there is a small piece of land on
the other side of the Silver Fork which belongs to your estate. In
looking up some old titles I discovered it. It's like this." He drew a
note-book from his pocket, drawing as he talked. "Here's Loon Mountain.
Here