WOODLAWN.

Next morning, long before the sun appeared above the eastern horizon, Fleetfoot, attended by Bill, stood before the door saddled and waiting for its young rider, while near by it was Firelock, which Durward had borrowed of John Jr.  At last ’Lena appeared, and if Durward had admired her beauty before, his admiration was now greatly increased when he saw how well she looked in her neatly fitting riding dress and tasteful straw hat.  After bidding her good morning, he advanced to assist her in mounting, but declining his offer, she with one bound sprang into the saddle,

“Jumps like a toad,” said Bill.  “Ain’t stiff and clumsy like Miss 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 summers in the country.  The year before he had died insolvent, Woodlawn falling into the hands of his creditors, who now offered it for sale, together with the gorgeous furniture which still remained just as the family had left it.  To the left of the building was a large, handsome park, in which the former owner had kept a number of deer, and now as Durward and ’Lena rode up and down the shaded avenues, these graceful creatures would occasionally spring up and bound away with the fleetness of the wind.