preceding day,
when Pluto was her guide, and she rode as straight east as she could
go towards the coast. When she met colored folk along the road she
halted, and spoke with them, to their great delight. She asked of the
older ones where the road led to, and were the pine woods everywhere
along it, and what about swamps and streams to ford, etc., etc.
Altogether, she had gained considerable knowledge of that especial
territory by the time she rode back to the Terrace and joined the rest
at the late breakfast. She had been in the saddle since dawn, and
recounted with vivacity all the little episodes of her solitary
constitutional; the novelty of it was exhilarating. That it appeared a
trifle eccentric to a Southerner did not suggest itself to her; all
her eccentricities were charming to the McVeigh household, and Delaven
lamented he had not been invited as proxy for Pluto, and amused the
breakfast party by anecdotes of hunting days in Ireland, and the
energy and daring of the ladies who rode at dawn there.

Several times during the day Judithe attempted to have a tete-a-tete
with Mrs. McVeigh, and learn more about Miss Loring's silent maid,
who was the first person she saw on her return from the ride that
morning. The absolute self-effacement of an individual whose repose
suggested self-reliance, and whose well shaped head was poised so
admirably as to suggest pride, made the sad-faced servant a
fascinating personality to any one interested in questions concerning
her race. No other had so won her attention since she made compact
with Kora in Paris.

But Mistress McVeigh was a very busy woman that day. Pluto's
absence left a vacancy in the establishment no other could fill so
intelligently. Miss Loring had promptly attached herself as general
assistant to the mistress of the house. Delaven noticed how naturally
she fell into the position of an elder daughter there, and,
remembering Evilena's disclosures at Loringwood, and Matthew Loring's
own statement, he concluded that the wedding bells might sound at any
time after Kenneth's return, and he fancied they had been delayed,
already, three years longer than suited the pleasure of her uncle.

Delaven, as well as Judithe, was attracted by the personality of
Margeret. In the light, or the shadow, of the sad story he had
listened to, she took on a new interest, an atmosphere of romance
surrounded her. He pictured what her life must have been as a child,
amid the sunshine