“Has he taken her to a strange country?”

“Yes,” cried Unity, with fire.  “How can it but be a strange country?” Her eyes filled with tears.  “Why, why did she not love your brother!”

“That,” said the younger Cary grimly, “is what I do not profess to understand.  And I would fight for your cousin, but I will not fight for Lewis Rand.  My brother’s enemies are mine.”

“You see.  You wouldn’t fight this battle, after all.”

“Would Miss Dandridge wish me to?”

Unity regarded the sunset beyond the snowball bushes.  “No,” she said at last, with a sigh and a shake of her head, “no, I wouldn’t.  I had rather a man behaved like a man than like an angel.”

“You are the angel.  At least your cousin will not live much longer in that log house, with the pines and the tobacco and the ghost of old Gideon.  Lewis Rand has bought Roselands.”

“Roselands!”

“You knew it was for sale.  Well, he’s bought it.  I had the news from the agent.  It’s to be put in order this winter, and in the spring Rand will come back from Richmond and take possession.  It is strange to think of a Rand owning Roselands!”

“A Churchill will own it, too!  It will have been bought with Churchill money.  I am so glad!  It can be made a lovely place.  Jacqueline will have the garden and the old, long drawing-room!  Deb and I can go there easily.  It is all more fitting—­I am glad!”

“It is too near Greenwood,” said the other gloomily.  “I think that Ludwell will stay in Richmond.”

“I’m sorry,” said Unity softly and brightly.  “I wish, I wish—­but what’s the use in wishing?  There! the sun has gone, and it is growing cold.  I have sat here until I’m no longer angry with Uncle Edward.  Poor man! to be reading Swift all this time!—­I’ll walk with you to the front porch.”

“I thought,” ventured the young man, “I thought that perhaps you might ask me to stay to supper.  It’s so lonely at Greenwood.”

“You stayed to supper last night,” said Miss Dandridge pensively, “and you were here to dinner the day before, and you rode over the preceding afternoon, and the morning before that you read me Vathek.—­Oh, stay to supper by all means!”

Cary picked up her scarf and handed her down the steps to the path that was beginning to be strewn with autumn leaves.  “Miss Dandridge—­Unity—­it has been fourteen mortal days since I last asked you to marry me!  You said I might ask you once a month—­”

“I didn’t,” said Unity serenely.  “I said once a month was too often.”

“Aren’t you ever going to love me?”

“Why, some day, yes!” replied Miss Dandridge.  “When you’ve swum the Hellespont like Leander, or picked a glove out of the lion’s den like the French knight, or battered down a haunted castle like Rinaldo, or taken the ring from a murderer’s hand like Onofrio, or set free the Magician’s daughter like Julio—­perhaps—­perhaps—­”