"Oh!" I said, "she is your guest, but where is her soul?"

"In heaven awaiting her, I suspect," he replied, "but, Miss Emily, she
is a fair type of a society woman. I have just been thinking that
to-morrow at sunset I hope to be among the birds and beneath the sky of
your native town; one can breathe there; I am glad to go."

"I don't want you to go," I said, impetuously (poor Emily did it).

He turned his full dark eyes upon me, and I felt the tide that flooded
cheek and brow with crimson.

"Explain to me, Miss Emily," he said, "you love to keep my mother
there."

"I did not mean to say it, Louis, but it is true."

"Why true?"

"I am so sorry--"

My dilemma was a queer one; I had to explain, and the tears that
gathered when his mother sang, came back as I described our plain home.

"I love my home, it is good enough for me, I could not exchange it even
with you, but you will think us rude, uncultivated people, I fear; you
will find no attraction there; everything is as homely there as I am
myself!"

And I never can forget how his bright, dark eyes grew humid with