r mistress, and be like wax in
her hands."

"Yo' ought to make that pooty speech to Sally Dows, she's generally
mistress around here. But," she added, suddenly fixing her eyes on him,
"how does it happen that yo' ain't walking with her instead of that
Englishman? Yo' know that it's as plain as day that he took that land
over there just to be near her, when he was no longer agent."

But Courtland was always master of himself and quite at ease regarding
Miss Sally when not in that lady's presence. "You forget," he said
smilingly, "that I'm still a stranger and knew little of the local
gossip; and if I did know it, I am afraid we didn't bargain to buy up
with the LAND Mr. Champney's personal interest in the LANDLADY."

"Yo' 'd have had your hands full, for I reckon she's pooty heavily
mortgaged in that fashion, already," returned Miss Reed with mere
badinage than spitefulness in the suggestion. "And Mr. Champney was run
pooty close by a French cousin of hers when he was here. Yo' haven't got
any French books to lend me, co'nnle--have yo'? Paw says you read a heap
of French, and I find it mighty hard to keep up MY practice since I
left the Convent at St. Louis, for paw don't knew what sort of books to
order, and I reckon he makes awful mistakes sometimes."

The conversation here turning upon polite literature, it appeared that
Miss Octavia's French reading, through a shy, proud innocence and
an imperfect knowledge of the wicked subtleties of the language, was
somewhat broad and unconventional for a young lady. Courtland promised
to send her some books, and even ventured to suggest some American and
English novels not intensely "No'th'n" nor "metaphysical"--according
to the accepted Southern beliefs. A new respect and pitying interest
in this sullen, solitary girl, cramped by tradition, and bruised rather
than enlightened by sad experiences, came over him. He found himself
talking quite confidentially to the lifted head, arched eyebrows, and
aquiline nose beside him, and even thinking what a handsome high-bred
BROTHER she might have been to some one. When they had reached the
house, in compliance with the familiar custom, he sat down on one of
the lower steps of the veranda, while she, shaking out her skirt, took a
seat a step or two above him. This enabled him, after the languid local
fashion, to lean on his elbow and gaze up into the eyes of the young
lady, while she with equal languor looked down upon him. But in the