The maid, grumbling a little, obeyed. This was a new thing for Madame, getting up with the sun. Down in Carolina she often remained in bed all morning. Still, down there it would be hot already—but hot! Thick odorous heat that choked one like fog. Heat like that of l'cnfer itself, no doubt—only damper, and rendered quite unbearable by the high, maddening hum of mosquitoes. Ce maudit pays!

Eleanore had a sharp nostalgic pang for her native Touraine, but it passed. She could no longer conceive of an existence apart from Madame and the baby. For them she would drag around the country on vessels and coaches and flat boats; for them she would endure, when she had to, the discomforts and fevers of the Waccamaw.

'Ça y est, Madame,' she said, as she finished tying the ribbons on Theo's kid slippers. Theo thanked her and waved good-bye. Arrayed in a 'Conversation' bonnet of yellow chip straw, a willow-green walking-dress, and a small India shawl, she let herself out of the sleeping house and walked rapidly down Maryland Avenue to the river.

As she walked, she hummed, joying in the sense of physical well-being, in the glowing June dawn, in the clear note of a meadowlark which mingled with her own voice. 'Cherry Ripe! Cherry Ripe!' she sang, laughing as the bird seemed to imitate the notes. Cherries were ripe now too, and Aaron liked them. She must send Eleanore to see if there were not some for sale in the market.

She crossed a bridge, and the road narrowed as she approached the river. Soon she glimpsed blue water between the trunks of hickory and oak trees. Not the sprawling, moss-dripping live-oaks of the South, but great sturdy trees that flung their leaves proudly to the sky. As trees should.

She came upon a field of daisies and Queen Anne's lace. Half-amused at her childishness she plucked a handful of these flowers and wove their stems together into a wreath. The white petals were studded with dew. She rubbed some of it upon her cheeks. Early morning dew is supposed to make one beautiful, she thought. I trust it improves my color or Father will scold.

She raised her head quickly as she heard galloping hoofs thump toward her down the road, and saw an enormous bay with a tall rider in a white shirt. Some other early riser, she thought indifferently, averting her head until he should pass and leave her again to the quiet beauty of the morning.

But he did not pass. The horse gave a quivering, resentful snort as he was pulled up short beside her.

Astonished, she turned. As she recognized the rider, she gasped, her fingers fell open, and the wreath dropped to pieces on the grass.