oring, as it looked down from the
canvas with a smile for all the world in his genial eyes.

They had made no further progress when Raquel appeared upon the scene
again with a request from Aunt Chloe, "Would Mahs Doctor come roun'
an' tell her jest what ailed her most, she got so many cu'eous
compercations."

He followed to see what the complications were, and thus it happened
that Judithe was left alone to look around her new possessions.

But she did not look far. After a brief glance about she returned to
the last portrait, studying the frank, handsome face critically.

"And thou wert the man," she murmured. "Why don't such men bear faces
to suit their deeds, that all people may avoid the evil of them? Fair,
strong, and appealing!" she continued, enumerating the points of the
picture, "and a frank, honest gaze, too; but the painter had probably
been false in that, and idealized the face. Yet I have seen eyes that
were as honest looking, cover a vile soul, so why not this one?"

The eyes that were as honest looking were the deep sea-blue eyes she
had described once to Dumaresque, confessing with light mockery their
witchcraft over her; she thanked God those days were over. She had now
something more to dream over than sentimental fancies.

She heard the quick beat of horse hoofs coming up the avenue and
stopping at the door; then, a man's voice:

"Good morning, Jeff--any of our folks over from the Terrace?"

"Yes, sah; good mawn, sah; leastwise I jest saw Miss Gertrude go in;
they all stayen' ovah at Terrace; I reckon she rode back for
something. I reckon you find her in library; window's open thah."

The man's voice replied from the hall, "All right," and he opened the
door.

"Good morning, little woman," he said, cheerily, boyishly. "When I saw
Hector at the gate with the side saddle I thought--"

What he thought was left unfinished. The slender figure in grey turned
from the window, and throwing back the veil with one hand extended the
other to him, with an amused smile at his mistake.

"_Judithe_!" He had crossed the room; he held her hand in both of his;
he could not otherwise believe in the reality of her presence. In
dreams he had seen her so often thus, with the smile and the light as
of golden stars deep in the brown eyes.

"Welcome to Loringwood, Col. McVeigh," she said, softly.

"Your welcome could make it the most delightful homecoming of my
life," he said, looking down at her, "if I dared