Carrie, who allus has to be done sot on."

At a word from Durward they galloped briskly away, the clatter of
their horses' hoofs arousing and bringing to the window Mrs. Graham,
who had a suspicion of what was going on. Pushing aside the silken
curtain, she looked uneasily after them, wondering if in reality her
son cared aught for the graceful creature at his side, and thinking
if he did, how hard she would labor to overcome his liking. Mrs.
Graham was not the only one who watched them, for fearing lest Bill
should not awake, John Jr. had foregone his morning nap, himself
calling up the negro, and now from his window he, too, looked after
them until they entered upon the turnpike and were lost to view.
Then, with some very complimentary reflections upon Lena's riding, he
returned to his pillow, thinking to himself, "There's a girl worth
having. By Jove, if I'd never seen Nellie Douglass, and 'Lena wasn't
my cousin, wouldn't I keep mother in the hysterics most of the time!"

On reaching the turnpike, Durward halted, while he asked 'Lena "where
she wished to go."

"Anywhere you please," said she, when, for reasons of his own, he
proposed that they should ride over to Woodlawn.

'Lena was certainly excusable if she felt a secret feeling of
satisfaction in thinking she was after all the first of the family to
visit Woodlawn, of which she had heard so much, that it seemed like a
perfect Eldorado. It was a grand old building, standing on a cross
road about three miles from the turnpike, and commanding quite an
extensive view of the country around. It was formerly owned by a
wealthy Englishman, who spent his winters in New Orleans and his