eye. But years passed
before she laughed over it. Behind Mr. Cluyme (for it was he) trotted his
family. Mrs. Cluyme, in a pink wrapper, carried an armful of the family
silver; then came Belle with certain articles of feminine apparel which
need not be enumerated, and the three small Cluymes of various ages
brought up the rear.

Mr. Cluyme, at the top of his speed, was come opposite to the carriage
when the lady occupant got out of it. Clutching at his sleeve, she
demanded where he was going. The bronze clock had a narrow escape.

"To the river," he gasped. "To the river, madame!" His wife coming after
him had a narrower escape still. Mrs. Colfax retained a handful of lace
from the wrapper, the owner of which emitted a shriek of fright.

"Virginia, I am going to the river," said Mrs. Colfax. "You may go where
you choose. I shall send the carriage back for you. Ned, to the levee!"
Ned did not lift a rein.

"What, you black rascal! You won't obey me?"

Ned swung on his seat. "No, indeedy, Miss Lilly, I ain't a-gwine 'thout
young Miss. The Dutch kin cotch me an' hang me, but I ain't a-gwine
'thout Miss Jinny."

Mrs. Colfax drew her shawl about her shoulders with dignity.

"Very well, Virginia," she said. "Ill as I am, I shall walk. Bear witness
that I have spent a precious hour trying to save you. If I live to see
your father again, I shall tell him that you preferred to stay here and
carry on disgracefully with a Yankee, that you let your own aunt risk her
life alone in the rain. Come, Susan!"

Virginia was very pale. She did not run down the steps, but she caught
her aunt by the arm ere that lady had taken six paces. The girl's face
frightened Mrs. Colfax into submission, and she let herself be led back
into the carriage beside the trunk. Those words of Mrs. Colfax's stung
Stephen to righteous anger and resentment--for Virginia.

As to himself, he had looked for insult. He turned to go that he might
not look upon her confusion; and hanging on the resolution, swung on his
heel again, his eyes blazeing. He saw in hers the deep blue light of the
skies after an evening's storm. She was calm, and save for a little
quiver of the voice, mistress of herself as she spoke to the group of
cowering servants.

"Mammy," she said, "get up on the box with Ned. And, Ned, walk the horses
to the levee, so that the rest may follow. Ephum, you stay here with the
house, and I will send Ned back to keep you company."

With these wo