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CHAPTER VII.
 WHEN Miss Trevennon appeared at breakfast, the morning after Major King’s visit, Mr. Gaston greeted her with more than his usual cordiality, and for the first time addressed her as “Miss Margaret.”  
The young lady replied to his morning salutation with a composed civility, and gave no sign of having observed the familiarity with which she was treated. She was quite her usual self during the meal, but she said little to Louis Gaston, and he observed that she did not voluntarily look at him. By the time that breakfast was ended she had managed, without the least suspicion on the part of the others, to convey to Louis Gaston the conviction that she was set like steel against him.
 
It was at the same time depressing and inspiring to the young man to perceive this. He was sorry to have this charming girl angry with him, and yet he could well imagine how pleasant a with her would be. He was certainly not a , but he was accustomed to good-humored handling by women, and he had no as to his ability to adjust the present little difficulty to his entire satisfaction. Meantime, there she sat opposite, looking very charming, with her air of dainty reserve. The impertinent little ignoramus, to pretend to set him right! He smiled to himself at the of the thought. The situation seemed to him extremely .
 
He had already settled upon the remark with which he would open the conversation, when he should presently follow her into the bow-window as usual, and he was therefore a little disconcerted when Miss Trevennon passed out of the dining-room by the door that opened into the hall, and mounted the stairs to her own room, whence she did not emerge until Louis, after long waiting, had gone off down town.
 
Later in the day, when Margaret found herself alone with Mrs. Gaston, she had some thought of informing the latter of last night’s occurrences, but upon reflection this appeared so difficult that she gave it up. It was doubtful if any good purpose could be served , and besides it would be very hard to describe her own feelings with sufficient reserve to avoid the rudeness of speaking unwarrantably to Mrs. Gaston of the brother-in-law who was such a favorite with her. Apart from all this, though there had been no opportunity for the positive of the feeling, it was borne in upon her that Mrs. Gaston herself would be found ranged on Louis’ side. So she said nothing about the matter and listened to Cousin Eugenia’s plans for the day just as usual.
 
There was another dinner on hand for this evening, and Mrs. Gaston expressed her intention of going out to her energies by a drive before , and Margaret presently left her, agreeing to join her, ready for the expedition, at twelve. In the hall she met a servant with some letters, one of which proved to be from her mother. This letter, filled with all manner of little, familiar domestic details, was read and re-read by Margaret with a degree of feeling quite inconsistent with the nature of its contents. The quiet home-pictures presented such a contrast to the recently encountered, that for a while she wished herself back at Bassett.
 
There was but one item of especial importance in the letter, and that was the announcement of the sudden return from Europe of Mrs. Trevennon’s nephew, Alan Decourcy, an individual who had long in Margaret’s mind and memory as a veritable Prince Charming, who to the letter every endowment of nature and advantage of fortune which the most of could have asked. Margaret had not seen him since he had come to man’s estate, but, as a boy, he had spent much of each year at a country home near Bassett, owned by his mother, and she had always looked upon him as the most fortunate and gifted of beings. He was an only son, and his sister, who was some years older than himself, was now married and living in Baltimore. To this sister Margaret had pledged herself for a visit before returning to the South. How pleasant it would be to meet Alan there! His mother was now dead, and after finishing his course at a Northern university he had gone abroad for a year’s travel, but it was only at the end of four years that he had now returned. She wondered if he would prove to be as handsome and charming as memory painted him! His occasional letters had been very , and led her to believe that all the bright promises of his youth had been fulfilled. And now he had actually returned, and she was to see him! Mrs. Trevennon wrote that she had already sent him her daughter’s address in Washington, saying that he must run over from Baltimore and see her. She added that her nephew had said that he would probably linger a while in New York before joining his sister, and so his movements were rather indefinite.
 
The feelings which this announcement of Alan Decourcy’s return were . Margaret was naturally very anxious to see this charming cousin, but she did not want him to come to see her in this house; she hoped she might never have another visitor here. Alan Decourcy was sure to be all that was elegant and charming, but since one person who had come to this house to see her had been treated with such discourtesy she wished for no more visitors. Already she had begun to lay plans for the termination of her visit, and she now resolved to speak to Cousin Eugenia, on the subject of going to Baltimore, as soon as the opportunity should offer.
 
“I wish I had Alan’s New York address,” she said to herself; “I’d write and tell him I would go to Baltimore, and so prevent his coming here. What would papa and mamma think if they knew I was staying at a house where I could not ask my cousin to call upon me, because I had no assurance that my visitors would not be treated rudely? They would not believe it. They simply could not understand it. My dear old father! He would take my letter to the light and read it over with his spectacles on, to see if there was not some mistake in his understanding of it. Once convinced, however, I know well enough what his course would be. He would write me to come away at once.” And Margaret rose to prepare for her drive with eyes that had grown moist at these recollections of her far-off home.
 
By the time that Cousin Eugenia sent to summon her, however, Miss Trevennon had recovered her composure, and when, a little later, seated by her cousin’s side, she was swiftly over the smooth, hard pavements, the exhilaration of the exercise had roused her spirits to such buoyancy that small annoyances, past and future, seemed trivial enough to be ignored.
 

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