CHAPTER II.


Early in the fresh April morning, the party at Riverside manor were
congregated in the hall, doing full justice to Aunt Nancy's substantial
breakfast.

"Oriana," said Beverly, as he paused from demolishing a well-buttered
batter cake, and handed his cup for a second supply of the fragrant
Mocha, "I will leave it to your _savoir faire_ to transform our friend
Arthur into a thorough southerner, before we yield him back to his Green
Mountains. He is already half a convert to our institutions, and will
give you not half so much trouble as that obstinate Harold Hare."

She slightly colored at the name, but quietly remarked:

"Mr. Wayne must look about him and judge from his own observation, not
my arguments. I certainly do not intend to annoy him during his visit,
with political discussions."

"And yet you drove Harold wild with your flaming harangues, and gave
him more logic in an afternoon ride than he had ever been bored with in
Cambridge in a month."

"Only when he provoked and invited the assault," she replied, smiling.
"But I trust, Mr. Wayne, that the cloud which is gathering above our
country will not darken the sunshine of your visit at Riverside manor.
It is unfortunate that you should have come at an unpropitious moment,