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A little haughty, but tall and erect in her well-preserved black grenadine dress, which gave her the appearance of a youthful but implacable widow, Miss Reed declared she had not seen the co’nnle for “a coon’s age,” and certainly had not expected to have the honor of his company as long as there were niggers to be elevated or painted to look like white men. She hoped that he and paw and Sally Dows were happy! They hadn’t yet got so far as to put up a nigger preacher in the place of Mr. Symes, their rector, but she understood that there was some talk of running Hannibal Johnson–Miss Dows’ coachman–for county judge next year! No! she had not heard that the co’nnle HIMSELF had thought of running for the office! He might laugh at her as much as he liked–he seemed to be in better spirits than when she first saw him–only she would like to know if it was “No’th’n style” to laugh coming home from church? Of course if it WAS she would have to adopt it with the Fourteenth Amendment. But, just now, she noticed the folks were staring at them, and Miss Sally Dows had turned round to look. Nevertheless, Miss Octavia’s sallow cheek nearest the colonel–the sunny side–had taken a faint brunette’s flush, and the corners of her proud mouth were slightly lifted.

“But, candidly, Miss Reed, don’t you think that you would prefer to have old Hannibal, whom you know, as county judge, than a stranger and a Northern man like ME?”

Miss Reed’s dark eyes glanced sideways at the handsome face and elegant figure beside her. Something like a saucy smile struggled to her thin lips.

“There mightn’t be much to choose, Co’nnle.”

“I admit it. We should both acknowledge our mistress, and be like wax in her hands.”

“Yo’ ought to make that pooty speech to Sally Dows, she’s generally mistress around here. But,” she added, suddenly fixing her eyes on him, “how does it happen that yo’ ain’t walking with her instead of that Englishman? Yo’ know that it’s as plain as day that he took that land over there just to be near her, when he was no longer agent.”

But Courtland was always master of himself and quite at ease regarding Miss Sally when not in that lady’s presence. “You forget,” he said smilingly, “that I’m still a stranger and knew little of the local gossip; and if I did know it, I am afraid we didn’t bargain to buy up with the LAND Mr. Champney’s personal interest in the LANDLADY.”

“Yo’ ‘d have had your hands full, for I reckon she’s pooty heavily mortgaged in that fashion, already,” returned Miss Reed with mere badinage than spitefulness in the suggestion. “And Mr. Champney was run pooty close by a French cousin of hers when he was here. Yo’ haven’t got any French books to lend me, co’nnle–have yo’? Paw says you read a heap of French, and I find it mighty hard to keep up MY practice since I left the Convent at St. Louis, for paw don’t knew what sort of books to order, and I reckon he makes awful mistakes sometimes.”

The conversation here turning upon polite literature, it appeared that Miss Octavia’s French reading, through a shy, proud innocence and an imperfect knowledge of the wicked subtleties of the language, was somewhat broad and unconventional for a young lady. Courtland promised to send her some books, and even ventured to suggest some American and English novels not intensely “No’th’n” nor “metaphysical”–according to the accepted Southern beliefs. A new respect and pitying interest in this sullen, solitary girl, cramped by tradition, and bruised rather than enlightened by sad experiences, came over him. He found himself talking quite confidentially to the lifted head, arched eyebrows, and aquiline nose beside him, and even thinking what a handsome high-bred BROTHER she might have been to some one. When they had reached the house, in compliance with the familiar custom, he sat down on one of the lower steps of the veranda, while she, shaking out her skirt, took a seat a step or two above him. This enabled him, after the languid local fashion, to lean on his elbow and gaze up into the eyes of the young lady, while she with equal languor looked down upon him. But in the present instance Miss Reed leaned forward suddenly, and darting a sharp quick glance into his very consciousness said:–