ne to Atlanta for a week."

"I have a letter for Miss Miranda, but I shall be very glad if Miss
Sally Dows will receive me," returned Courtland, handing the letter and
his card to the girl.

She received it with a still greater access of dignity and marked
deliberation. "It's clean gone outer my mind, sah, ef Miss Sally is in
de resumption of visitahs at dis houah. In fac', sah," she continued,
with intensified gravity and an exaggeration of thoughtfulness as the
sounds of Miss Sally's hammering came shamelessly from the wall, "I
doahn know exac'ly ef she's engaged playin' de harp, practicin' de
languages, or paintin' in oil and watah colors, o' givin' audiences to
offishals from de Court House. It might be de houah for de one or de
odder. But I'll communicate wid her, sah, in de budwoh on de uppah
flo'." She backed dexterously, so as to keep the slipper behind her, but
with no diminution of dignity, out of a side door. In another moment the
hammering ceased, followed by the sound of rapid whispering without; a
few tiny twigs and leaves slowly rustled to the ground, and then there
was complete silence. He ventured to walk to the fateful window again.

Presently he heard a faint rustle at the other end of the room, and he
turned. A sudden tremulousness swept along his pulses, and then they
seemed to pause; he drew a deep breath that was almost a sigh, and
remained motionless.

He had no preconceived idea of falling in love with Miss Sally at first
sight, nor had he dreamed such a thing possible. Even the girlish face
that he had seen in the locket, although it had stirred him with a
singular emotion, had not suggested that. And the ideal he had evolved
from it was never a potent presence. But the exquisitely pretty face
and figure before him, although it might have been painted from his own
fancy of her, was still something more and something unexpected. All
that had gone before had never prepared him for the beautiful girl who
now stood there. It was a poor explanation to say that Miss Sally was
four or five years older than her picture, and that later experiences,
enlarged capacity, a different life, and new ambition had impressed her
youthful face with a refined mobility; it was a weird fancy to imagine
that the blood of those who had died for her had in some vague,
mysterious way imparted an actual fascination to her, and he dismissed
it. But even the most familiar spectator, like Sophy, could see that
Miss Sally