she remarked, "One would think you were ashamed of me, Gerald."

The words were almost whispered, but the tone sounded more like a
reproach than anything she had ever uttered. With ready gallantry he
responded aloud, "I think so much of my treasure that I want to keep
it all to myself."

He was very affectionate during their drive; and this, combined with
the genial air, the lovely scenery, and the exhilaration of swift
motion, restored her to a greater sense of happiness than she had felt
since her darling sister vanished so suddenly.

The plantation was in gala dress. The veranda was almost covered with
the large, white, golden-eyed stars of the Cherokee rose, gleaming out
from its dark, lustrous foliage. The lawn was a sheet of green velvet
embroidered with flowers. Magnolias and oaks of magnificent growth
ornamented the extensive grounds. In the rear was a cluster of negro
huts. Black picaninnies were rolling about in the grass, mingling
their laughter with the songs of the birds. The winding paths of the
garden were lined with flowering shrubs, and the sea sparkled in the
distance. Wherever the eye glanced, all was sunshine, bloom, and
verdure.

For the first time, he invited her to enter the mansion. Her first
movement was toward the piano. As she opened it, and swept her hand
across the keys, he said: "It is sadly out of tune. It has been
neglected because its owner had pleasanter music elsewhere."

"But the tones are very fine," rejoined she. "What a pity it shouldn't
be used!" As she glanced out of the window on the blooming garden and