s feeling for her; and also had
they settled his determination. He was not versed in the reading of a
woman's nature, and he found himself at a loss to interpret Therese's
actions. He recalled how she had looked away from him when he had
spoken the few tender words that were yet whirling in his memory; how
she had impetuously ridden ahead,--leaving him to follow alone; and
her incessant speech that had forced him into silence. All of which
might or might not be symptoms in his favor. He remembered her kind
solicitude for his comfort and happiness during the past year; but he
as readily recalled that he had not been the only recipient of such
favors. His reflections led to no certainty, except that he loved her
and meant to tell her so.

Therese's door being closed, and moreover locked, Aunt Belindy, the
stout negress who had superintended the laying of supper, felt free to
give low speech to her wrath as she went back and forth between
dining-room and kitchen.

"Suppa gittin' dat cole 'tain' gwine be fittin' fu' de dogs te' tech.
Believe half de time w'ite folks ain't got no feelin's, no how. If dey
speck I'se gwine stan' up heah on my two feet all night, dey's foolin'
dey sef. I ain't gwine do it. Git out dat doo' you Mandy! you want me
dash dis heah coffee pot at you--blockin' up de doo's dat away? W'ar
dat good fu' nuttin Betsy? Look yonda, how she done flung dem dere
knife an forks on de table. Jis let Miss T'rese kotch'er. Good God
A'mighty, Miss T'rese mus' done gone asleep. G'long dar an' see."

There was no one on the plantation who would have felt at liberty to
enter Therese's bedroom without permission, the door being closed; yet
she had taken the needless precaution of bringing lock and bolt to the
double security of her moment of solitude. The first announcement of
supper had found her still in her riding habit, with head thrown back
upon the cushion of her lounging chair, and her mind steeped in a
semi-stupor that it would be injustice to her brighter moments to call
reflection.

Therese was a warm-hearted woman, and a woman of clear mental vision;
a combination not found so often together as to make it ordinary.
Being a woman of warm heart, she had loved her husband with the
devotion which good husbands deserve; but being a clear-headed woman,
she was not disposed to rebel against the changes which Time brings,
when so disposed, to the human sensibilities. She was not steeped in
that agony of remorse