, was much more
Caucasian in appearance than Louise.

It was but a few seconds they stood looking at each other, when
Margeret made a slight little inclination of her head and a movement
of the lips that might have been an apology, but in that moment the
strange woman's face fairly photographed itself on Judithe's mind--the
melancholy expression of it haunted her afterwards.

Mrs. McVeigh, noticing her guest's absorbed gaze, turned and saw
Margeret as she was about to leave the room.

"What is it, Margeret?" she asked, kindly, "looking for Miss
Gertrude?"

"Yes, Mistress McVeigh; Mr. Loring wants her."

"I think she must have gone to her room, she and Mistress Nesbitt went
upstairs some time ago."

Margeret gently inclined her head, and passed out with the noiseless
tread Evilena had striven to emulate in vain that day at Loringwood.

"One of Miss Loring's retainers?" asked Judithe; "I fancied they only
kept colored servants."

"Margeret _is_ colored," explained Mrs. McVeigh, "that is," as the
other showed surprise, "although her skin does not really show color,
yet she is an octoroon--one-eighth of colored ancestry. She has never
been to the Terrace before, and she had a lost sort of appearance as
she wandered in here, did she not? She belongs to Miss Loring's
portion of the estate, and is very capable in her strange, quiet way.
There have been times, however, when she was not quite right
mentally--before we moved up here, and the darkies rather stand in awe
of her ever since, but she is entirely harmless."

"That explains her peculiar, wistful expression," suggested Judithe.
"I am glad you told me of it, for her melancholy had an almost
mesmeric effect on me--and her eyes!"

All the time she was changing her dress for lunch those haunting eyes,
and even the tones of her voice, remained with her.

"Those poor octoroons!" and she sighed as she thought of them, "the
intellect of their white fathers, and the bar of their mothers' blood
against the development of it--poor soul, poor soul--she actually
looks like a soul in prison. Oh!"--and she flung out her hands in
sudden passion of impotence. "What can one woman do against such a
multitude? One look into that woman's hopeless face has taken all the
courage from me. Ah, the resignation of it!"

But when she appeared among the others a little later, gowned in sheer
white, with touches of apple green here and there, and the gay,
gracious manner of one please