of their choice. His reply was cautious, yet he did not refuse his consent. He advised them to wait a few months, allow him time to know the young people, and get his bearings on the conditions of Southern society. His mood of tenderness was a startling revelation to them of the depth and intensity of his love.
When Mrs. Lenoir returned with Marion to her vineclad home, she spent the first day of perfect joy since the death of her lover-husband. The deed had not yet been made for the transfer of the farm, but it was only a question of legal formality. She was to receive the money in the form of interest-bearing securities and deliver the title on the following morning.
Arm in arm, mother and daughter visited again each hallowed spot, with the sweet sense of ownership. The place was in perfect order. Its flowers were in gorgeous bloom, its walks clean and neat, the fences painted, and the gates swung on new hinges.
They stood with their arms about one another, watching the sun sink behind the mountains, with tears of gratitude and hope stirring their souls.
Ben Cameron strode through the gate, and they hurried to meet him, with cries of joy.
"Just dropped in a minute to see if you are snug for the night?" he said.
"Of course, snug and so happy, we've been hugging one another for hours," said the mother. "Oh, Ben, the clouds have lifted at last!"
"Has Aunt Cindy come yet?" he asked.
