erry as heart could wish, yet a bouquet, a flavor, a
tang of the Court and the great world, a breath of air that was not
colonial, had gone with them. For a moment the women stood in a brown
study, revolving in their minds Mistress Evelyn's gypsy hat and the
exceeding thinness and fineness of her tucker; while to each of the
younger men came, linked to the memory of a charming face, a vision of
many-acred Westover.

But the trumpet blew, summoning them to the sport of the afternoon, and
work stopped upon castles in Spain. When a horse-race was on, a meadow in
Virginia sufficed.

CHAPTER IV

THE ROAD TO WILLIAMSBURGH

April had gone out in rain, and though the sun now shone brightly from a
cloudless sky, the streams were swollen and the road was heavy. The
ponderous coach and the four black horses made slow progress. The creeping
pace, the languid warmth of the afternoon, the scent of flowering trees,
the ceaseless singing of redbird, catbird, robin, and thrush, made it
drowsy in the forest. In the midst of an agreeable dissertation upon May
Day sports of more ancient times the Colonel paused to smother a yawn; and
when he had done with the clown, the piper, and the hobby-horse, he yawned
again, this time outright.

"What with Ludwell's Burgundy, piquet, and the French peace, we sat late
last night. My eyes are as heavy as the road. Have you noticed, my dear,
how bland and dreamy is the air? On such an afternoon one is content to be
in Virginia, and out of the world. It is a very land of the Lotophagi,--a
lazy clime that Ulysses touched at, my love."

The equipage slowly climbed an easy ascent, and as slowly descended to the
level again. The road was narrow, and now and then a wild cherry-tree
struck the coach with a white arm, or a grapevine swung through the window
a fragrant trailer. The woods on either hand were pale green and silver
gray, save where they were starred with dogwood, or where rose the pink
mist of the Judas-tree. At the foot of the hill the road skirted a mantled
pond, choked with broad green leaves and the half-submerged trunks of
fallen trees. Upon these logs, basking in the sunlight, lay small
tortoises by the score. A snake glided across the road in front of the
horses, and from a bit of muddy ground rose a cloud of yellow butterflies.

The Colonel yawned for the third time, looked at his watch, sighed, lifted
his finely arched brows with a whimsical smile for his own somnolence;
th