pervision, in fact, I trust many
such things to her."

"Pray let her remain long enough to gain a pleasant impression of
plantation life," suggested Mrs. McVeigh, as they rose from the table.
"I fancied she was depressed by the monotony of the swamp lands, or
else made nervous by the group of black men around the carriage there
at Loringwood; they did look formidable, perhaps, to a stranger at
night, but are really the most kindly creatures."

Judithe de Caron had walked to the windows opening on the veranda and
was looking out across the lawn, light almost as day under the high
moon, a really lovely view, though both houses and grounds were on a
more modest scale than those of Loringwood. They lacked the grandeur
suggested by the century-old cedars she had observed along the Loring
drive. The Terrace was much more modern and, possibly, so much more
comfortable. It had in a superlative degree the delightful atmosphere
of home, and although the stranger had been within its gates so short
a time, she was conscious of the wonder if in all her varied
experience she had ever been in so real a home before.

"How still it all is," remarked Mrs. McVeigh, joining her. "Tomorrow,
when my little girl gets back, it will be less so; come out on the
veranda and I can show you a glimpse of the river; you see, our place
is built on a natural terrace sloping to the Salkahatchie. It gives us
a very good view."

"Charming! I can see that even in the night time."

"Three miles down the river is the Clarkson place; they are most
pleasant friends, and Miss Loring's place, The Pines, joins the
Terrace grounds, so we are not so isolated as might appear at first;
and fortunately for us our plantation is a favorite gathering place
for all of them."

"I can quite believe that. I have been here two--three hours, perhaps,
and I know already why your friends would be only too happy to come.
You make them a home from the moment they enter your door."

"You could not say anything more pleasing to my vanity, Marquise,"
said her hostess, laughingly, and then checked herself at sight of an
upraised finger. "Oh, I forgot--I do persist in the Marquise."

"Come, let us compromise," suggested her guest, "if Madame Caron
sounds too new and strange in your ears, I have another name, Judithe;
it may be more easily remembered."

"In Europe and England," she continued, "where there are so many royal
paupers, titles do not always mean what they are supp