' Oh, Gampy, darling, that is just coincidence. It just happens that way. Now you know there isn't any big white bird. And no one can foretell another's death, or his own. I want you to forget all that folly.'

She kissed the troubled face. 'We are expecting a guest,' she added, with a change of tone. 'We must make ready the blue room. Eleanore, see to the linen and have the floors polished. Gampy, you may help me pick flowers to put in the vases.'

' Who's coming, Mama?'

She hesitated, startled at the uprush of joy in her throat. 'Meriwether Lewis, Governor of the North Louisiana Territory, an old friend of mine.'

She had forgotten Eleanore, whose anxiety about the Indian was removed by this interesting disclosure. 'Ah, ça, Madame!' she gasped. 'Encore ce jeune homme!' What remarkable people, these Americans! They have une affaire, they part, and do not meet for years. They send messages by red Indians, they come to stay in the husband's home. But it will do Madame good. She has had so much trouble, so much worry with her father, and Monsieur Alston, too, avec cette sale négresse. Eleanore, of course, had come to know about Venus.

'Madame will want some new clothes,' she suggested, with an expression which could only be described as a respectful leer. 'She has nothing pretty enough—assez'séduisant—for the reception of a—a Governor.'

Theo frowned. 'You don't understand. It is not like that now. All that you arc thinking, c'est fini. Governor Lewis is an old acquaintance who finds it convenient to stop off here on his way to Washington. C'cst tout.'

'Certainement, Madame'. Eleanore was unconvinced. More than ever unconvinced, as Theo, after all, sent one of the servants to Charleston by boat with the rice, with instructions to bring back five yards of embroidered India muslin, two yards of gold ribbon, and the latest fashion papers. She noted sympathetically also that Madame spent much more time than usual before the mirror.

She came into Theo's room one morning with the cut pattern of the new dress, for trying on, and found her mistress at the dressing-table peering anxiously into the greenish glass.

'Soyez tranquille, Madame, vous êtes toujours belle'. She took up the brush and began brushing the long curling hair with soothing strokes.

'I found some gray hairs,' said Theo. 'I pulled them out, but more will come. And I am sallow.'

'This terrible climate. It ages one. But he will not notice. He will still think you lovely.'

This time her allusion went unreproved. It was true: she still wanted him to think her lovely. Each day since the receipt of his message, her longing had grown. She awoke to think—Will it be today?—and retired each night with an ever-mounting weight of disappointment.