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CHAPTER III.
 A FEW minutes before six o’clock that evening, Margaret, clad in a long black gown that swathed her up to her milk-white throat, came slowly down the broad staircase of General Gaston’s house and entered the empty drawing-room.  
Finding herself alone, she moved across the warm, bright room to the table which stood under the chandelier, and taking up the evening paper, which had just been brought in, she began rather listlessly to run her eyes along its columns. Presently some particular item caught her attention, and so absorbed her that she was unconscious of approaching footsteps, until she caught sight of a gentleman who was just entering the room from the hall.
 
Lowering the paper, she waited for him to come forward, which he did with a certain perplexity of expression and a slight confusion of manner. Seeing these indications, the girl looked into his face with frank self-possession, and said gently:
 
“Miss Trevennon.”
 
As there was no response, she presently added:
 
“You are Mr. Gaston?”
 
The sound of his own name recalled him, and he came up and greeted her with a perfect ease that instantly put to flight the moment’s confusion; not however, before a eye, to a crack between the folding-doors of the library, had the fact of its existence. These doors were now suddenly thrown apart, and Mrs. Gaston, dressed in a gay and ornate costume, entered the room.
 
“I beg pardon of you both for not having been on hand to introduce you,” she said, with careless composure, as she took her brother-in-law’s hand and turned her cheek to receive his light kiss. “You have managed to with my offices, I’m glad to see! How are you, Louis?—though it is the merest form to ask. He is one of the hopelessly healthy people, Margaret, who are the most class on earth to me. Anything in the Star, dear? Let me see.”
 
She took the paper from Miss Trevennon’s hand, and began carelessly looking it over. Suddenly her eye lighted.
 
“Here’s something that may interest you, Louis,” she said, handing him the paper, as she with her heavily jewelled finger to a paragraph headed:
 
“Southern Imports.”
 
At the same instant General Gaston entered the room, and just a servant announced dinner.
 
Mrs. Gaston had mentioned that it was characteristic of her to be a magnanimous victor, and it may have been that fact which prompted her great urbanity to her brother-in-law on the present occasion. She ran her hand through his arm affectionately, as she walked toward the dining-room beside him, and thanked him with great for the delicious candy. To all which he answered by the not very relevant response, uttered half under his breath:
 
“Never mind, madam! I’ll settle with you for this.”
 
Margaret, of course, was vis-à-vis to Louis Gaston at the table, and while both joined in the general conversation which ensued, she perceived, by her quick glances, that he was a man of not more than medium height, with a straight and well-carried figure and a dark-skinned, intelligent face. He had dark eyes, which were at once keen and thoughtful, and very white teeth under his brown mustache. Although in undoubted possession of these good points, she did not set him down as a handsome man, though his natural advantages were enhanced by the fact that he was dressed with the most neatness in every detail, the very cut of his short dark hair, parted straight in the middle, and brushed down on top of his noticeably fine head, and the well-kept appearance of his rather long finger-nails, giving evidence of the fact that his toilet was performed with care.
 
It was something very new, and at the same time very pleasant to Margaret, to observe these little points in a person whose first and strongest impression upon her had been that of genuine . In Bassett, the young men allowed their hair to grow rather long and ; and when, for some great occasion, they would pay a visit to the barber, the shorn and cropped appearance they presented afterward was so transforming as to make it necessary for their friends to look twice to be sure of their identity. As to their nails, in many instances these were kept in check by means of certain provided by nature for purposes of ruthless , and when this was not the case they were left to work their own destruction, or else hurriedly disposed of in the of stick-whittling. Not a man of them but would have set it down as effeminate to manifest the scrupulous care in dress which was observable in Louis Gaston, and it was upon this very point that Margaret was reflecting when Gaston’s voice recalled her.
 
“I’m glad to get home, Eugenia,” he said, tasting his wine, as the servant was removing his soup-plate. “I think Ames is beginning to find out that this Washington office is a of mine, and that the real obstacle to my settling down in New York is my fondness for the domestic circle. I really wish Edward could manage to get sent to Governor’s Island. I must confess I should prefer New York as a residence, if I could be accompanied by my household gods and my tribe. Shouldn’t you, Miss Trevennon?”
 
Margaret had been sitting quite silent for some time, and Gaston, observing this, purposely drew her into the conversation, a thing his sister-in-law would never have done, for the reason that she had observed that her young cousin the not very common charm of listening and looking on with a perfect grace.
 
“I have never been to New York,” said Margaret, in answer to this direct appeal, “and I have only a limited idea of its advantages as a place of residence, though I don’t doubt they are very great.”
 
“They are, indeed,” said Louis, observing her with a across the mass of bloom and leafage in the épergne. “You will like it immensely.”
 
“If I ever make its acquaintance,” said Margaret, smiling. “Washington seemed to me the border-land of the Antipodes before I came here, and I have never thought of going beyond it.”
 
“You have lived, then, altogether in the South?” said Gaston, with a of incredulity in his voice, so faint as to escape Margaret, but evident to Mrs. Gaston, for the reason, perhaps, that she was listening for it.
 
“Yes, altogether,” Margaret answered.
 
“My poor little cousin is in a most condition,” Mrs. Gaston said. “She has not only never been to New York, but—only think!—until to-day she never heard of Ames & Gaston!”
 
“Impossible! Unbelievable!” said Louis. “Was it for this that they designed ‘All Saints,’ and have even been mentioned in connection with the new skating-rink? Eugenia, you are a true friend. It will not be necessary for me to carry a slave about with me to remind me that I am a man, like the great we read of in history; a sister-in-law is a capital substitute and performs her office quite as faithfully.”
 
“Perhaps it is well for me,” said Margaret, smiling , “that I began my list of ignorances with such an one; it will make those that follow seem trivial by comparison.”
 
“There is wisdom in what you say, Miss Trevennon,” said Louis; “and if you wish to impress yourself with the magnitude of the present one, get Eugenia to take you to see ‘All Saints.’”
 
The conversation now turned into other channels, and it was not until Margaret was saying good-night to Mrs. Gaston, in the latter’s dressing-room, that she to this subject.
 
“I can well believe that Mr. Gaston is a clever architect,” she said, “his eye is so keen and steady. I should like to see some of his work. This ‘All Saints’ Church is very beautiful, I suppose. Shall we really go to see it some day?”
 
Mrs. Gaston broke into her little light laugh.
 
“That’s a piece of nonsense of Louis’, my dear,” she said. “It’s a cheap little mission , built by a very poor congregation in a wretched part of the town. The Travers girls got Louis interested in it, and he made them the designs and estimates and superintends its erection. Of course he charged them nothing; in fact, I believe he a good deal toward it himself. He is amused at the idea of their calling it ‘All Saints,’ and making it such a comprehensive memorial. He and his partner have designed some really beautiful buildings here, however, which I will show you. Louis is very clever, don’t you think so?”
 
“I hardly feel able to judge, yet,” said Margaret, “but if you say so, I will believe it, for since I’ve been with you, Cousin Eugenia, I begin to think I never knew any one before who was clever.”
 
“Why are you always forcing one to remind you of your ignorance, child?” retorted Mrs. Gaston, laughing lightly. “This is the most convincing proof we have had of it yet.”
 
As Margaret went up to say good-night, she felt a strong impulse to express some of the ever-ready affection which her cousin’s kindness had in her heart; but Cousin Eugenia was a woman to whom it was very hard to be affectionate, and she her young cousin’s intention now by turning her cheek so coolly that the words died on the girl’s lips. Mrs. Gaston was naturally unsympathetic, and it almost seemed as if she cultivated the quality. However that might be, it was certain that, at the end of a month spent in daily companionship with this bright and agreeable cousin, Margaret was obliged to admit to herself that she had not taken one step toward the intimate friendship she would have liked to establish between them. Her cousin was kindness itself, and always companionable and agreeable, but she was scarcely ever really serious, although she had at hand a reserve of decorous gravity which she could always draw upon when occasion required.

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