he
pale, cotton-robed little hostess.

"By no means."

"Why do you come here? Why do you sneer at my poor clothes? Why--" Her
voice trembled, and she stopped abruptly.

"I was not aware that they were poor or old, Miss Duke. I have never
seen a more exquisite costume than yours on the evening when we dined
here by invitation; it has been like a picture in my memory ever since."

"An old robe that belonged to my grandmother, and I burned it, every
shred, as soon as you had gone," said Gardis hotly.

Far from being impressed as she had intended he should be, David Newell
merely bowed; the girl saw that he set the act down as "temper."

"I suppose your Northern ladies never do such things?" she said
bitterly.

"You are right; they do not," he answered.

"Why do you come here?" pursued Gardis. "Why do you speak to me of Mr.
Saxton? Though he had the fortune of a prince, he is nothing to me."

"Roger's fortune is comfortable, but not princely, Miss Duke--by no
means princely. We are not princely at the North," added Newell, with a
slight smile, "and neither are we 'knightly.' We must, I fear, yield all
claim to those prized words of yours."

"I am not aware that I have used the words," said Miss Duke, with lofty
indifference.

"Oh, I did not mean you alone--you personally--but all Southern women.
However, to return to our subject: Saxton loves you, and has gone away
with a saddened heart."

This was said gravely. "As though," Miss Duke remarked to
herself--"really as though a heart was of consequence!"

"I presume he will soon forget," she said carelessly, as she took up her
embroidery again.

"Yes, no doubt," replied Captain Newell. "I remember once on Staten
Island, and again out in Mississippi, when he was even more--Yes, as you
say, he will soon forget."

"Then why do you so continually speak of him?" said Miss Duke sharply.
Such prompt corroboration was not, after all, as agreeable as it should
have been to a well-regulated mind.

"I speak of him, Miss Duke, because I wish to know whether it is only
your Southern girlish pride that speaks, or whether you really, as would
be most natural, love him as he loves you; for, in the latter case, you
would be able, I think, to fix and retain his somewhat fickle fancy. He
is a fine fellow, and, as I said before, it would be but natural, Miss
Duke, that you should love him."

"I do not love him," said Gardis, quickly and angrily, putting in her
stitches all