consent avoided as a
subject for discussion, Mrs. Ann critical of what his farm cost, being
herself country-bred, had said that if it were worked with Maryland
blacks it would pay and pay well.

"You mean, dear, that if I owned the labour, it would pay."

"Yes," she returned gaily, "and with me for your farmeress."

"You are, you are!" he laughed, "and you have cultivated me. I am well
broken to your satisfaction, I trust; but to me, Ann, the unpaid labour
of the slave seems impossible."

"Oh, James, it is not only possible, but right for us who know what for
all concerned is best."

"Well, well," he laughed, "the vegetable garden seems to be run at a
profit without them--ah! Ann, how about that?"

The talk was, as they both knew, more serious than it would have seemed
to any one who might have chanced to be present. The tact born of perfect
love has the certainty of instinct, and to be sensitive even to
tenderness in regard to the prejudices or the fixed opinions of another
does much to insure happiness both in friendship and in love. Here with
these two people was a radical difference of belief concerning what was
to be more and more a hard subject as the differences of sentiment North
and South became sharply defined. Westways and the mills understood her,
and what were her political beliefs, but not the laughingly guarded
silence of the much loved and usually outspoken Squire, who now and then
relieved his mind by talking political history to John or Rivers.

The stables and farm were seriously inspected and opinions expressed
concerning colts and horses to the amusement of the grooms. He presided
in Penhallow's place at table with some sense of newly acquired
importance, and on the fourth day of his uncle's absence, at Mark
Rivers's request, asked Mr. Grace to join them. The good Baptist was
the more pleased to come in the absence of Mrs. Penhallow, who liking
neither his creed nor his manners, respected the goodness of a life of
self-denial, which, as his friend Rivers knew, really left him with
hardly enough to keep his preaching soul alive.

"Grace is late, as usual," said Rivers to John. "He has, I believe, no
acquaintance with minutes and no more conception of time than the angels.
Ah! I see him. His table-manners really distress your aunt; but manners
are--well, we will leave that to another time. Good evening, Grace."

"Glad to see you, sir," said John.

On a word from Rivers, the guest offered t