tops, the sloping
hill-side, and the very air, with russet and gold.

Hosmer sat beside her, curiously inattentive to his newspaper;
observant of her small needs, and anticipating her timid half
expressed wishes. Was there some mysterious power that had so soon
taught the man such methods to a woman's heart, or was he not rather
on guard and schooling himself for the role which was to be acted out
to the end? But as the day was approaching its close, Fanny became
tired and languid; a certain mistrust was creeping into her heart with
the nearing darkness. It had grown sultry and close, and the view from
the car window was no longer cheerful, as they whirled through
forests, gloomy with trailing moss, or sped over an unfamiliar country
whose features were strange and held no promise of a welcome for her.

They were nearing Place-du-Bois, and Hosmer's spirits had risen almost
to the point of gaiety as he began to recognize the faces of those who
loitered about the stations at which they stopped. At the Centerville
station, five miles before reaching their own, he had even gone out on
the platform to shake hands with the rather mystified agent who had
not known of his absence. And he had waved a salute to the little
French priest of Centerville who stood out in the open beside his
horse, booted, spurred and all equipped for bad weather, waiting for
certain consignments which were to come with the train, and who
answered Hosmer's greeting with a sober and uncompromising sweep of
the hand. When the whistle sounded for Place-du-Bois, it was nearly
dark. Hosmer hurried Fanny on to the platform, where stood Henry, his
clerk. There were a great many negroes loitering about, some of whom
offered him a cordial "how'dy Mr. Hosma," and pushing through was
Gregoire, meeting them with the ease of a courtier, and acknowledging
Hosmer's introduction of his wife, with a friendly hand shake.

"Aunt Therese sent the buggy down fur you," he said, "we had rain this
mornin' and the road's putty heavy. Come this way. Mine out fur that
ba'el, Mrs. Hosma, it's got molasses in. Hiurm bring that buggy ova
yere."

"What's the news, Gregoire?" asked Hosmer, as they waited for Hiram to
turn the horses about.

"Jus' about the same's ev'a. Miss Melicent wasn't ver' well a few days
back; but she's some betta. I reckon you're all plum wore out," he
added, taking in Fanny's listless attitude, and thinking her very
pretty as far as he could discover