Katrine | Page 5

charm.
"Madam!" he cried, saluting. "Mr. Francis Ravenel, delightful son of a
delightful mother! The top of the evening to both of ye." And with a
considered manner he made a stage exit, and Frank and Madam
Ravenel heard the gay voice--
"... most excellent Turk, For I'm fond of tobacco and ladies--"
coming back with the clatter of a horse's hoofs through the fading
sunlight over the dew of the daisies.
"Well," said Mrs. Ravenel, her eyes dancing with merry light, "isn't he
delightful?"

"Delightful!" Frank repeated. "Is he? I wonder. Shrewd, cool-headed,
cruel, I think--subtle as well."
"Nonsense," Mrs. Ravenel interrupted, with a smile which might not
have been so mirthful had she seen at that moment the man of whom
she spoke.
Near the north gate McDermott had brought his horse suddenly to a
walk. There was no longer gayety in his manner or his face. The merry
light had left his eyes, and in its place shone a gleam, steady and cold,
as only the eye of the intellectual Irish can be.
"And so that is the son! An unco man for the lassies, like his father
before him." His eyelids drew together as he spoke. "Handsome,
too--with a knowledge of life. It's a pity!" he said. "It's a pity! But he
may not interfere. If he does, well--even if he does, the gods are with
the Irish!"

II
THE MEETING IN THE WOODS
Instead of entering the drawing-room after Dermott's departure, Frank
turned with some abruptness toward Mrs. Ravenel.
"I am going for a walk, mother," he said, with no suggestion that she
accompany him; and her intimate acquaintance with Francis, sixth of
the name, made her understand with some accuracy the moods of his
son, Francis seventh.
"You are handsomer than ever, Frank!" she exclaimed, as if in answer
to the suggestion.
"You spoil me, mother," he returned, with a smile.
"Women have always done that--" she began.

"And you more than any other," Frank broke in, kissing her, with a
deference of manner singularly his own.
"There may be truth in that," Mrs. Ravenel admitted, a fine sense of
humor marked by the grudging tone in which she spoke. "I remember
that only yesterday I was in a rage because the roses were not further
open to welcome you home."
"Nature is unappreciative," he returned; and the gray eyes with the
level lids looked into the blue ones with the level lids, and both
laughed.
For a space Mrs. Ravenel contemplated him, the ecstasy of motherhood
illuminating the glance.
"You are quite the handsomest human being I ever saw, Frank--though
I think I said something like that before."
"You are, of course, unprejudiced, lady mother," he laughed back from
the lowest step.
"It's natural I should be--being only a mother," she explained, gayly.
"Ah," she went on, "I am so happy to have you at home with me! Not
happy at having asked those people down. They come on the
twenty-seventh."
"Whom have you asked?"
"The Prescotts."
"Good."
"The Porters and Sallie Maddox."
"Better."
"And Anne Lennox."

There was a silence.
"Did I hear you say 'best'?" Mrs. Ravenel inquired.
"By some wanderment of mind, I forgot it," Frank returned, lightly.
"I am always subtle in my methods," his mother continued. "Note the
adroitness now. Why don't you marry her, Frank?"
"Do you think she would marry me?"
"Don't be foolish. Anne is devoted to you, and you must marry
someone. You are an only son. There is the family name to be thought
of, and there must be a Francis eighth to inherit the good looks of
Francis seventh, must there not? And how I shall hate it!" she added,
truthfully.
Again a silence fell between them before Frank turned the talk with
intention in word and tone.
"About this new overseer?" he asked. "Satisfactory?"
"When not drunk--very."
"Does it"--he smiled--"I mean the drunkenness, not the
satisfaction--occur frequently?"
"I am afraid it does."
"What did McDermott say his name is?"
"Patrick Dulany."
"French, I suppose?" he suggested.
"By all the laws of inference," his mother returned, with an answering
gleam in her eye.
"There seems to have been a Celtic invasion of the Carolinas during my

absence. Has he a family?"
"Only a daughter." And as Frank turned to leave her Mrs. Ravenel
asked, lightly: "How long do you intend to stay here, Frank?"
"I have made no plans," he answered; but going down the carriageway
he said to himself, with a smile: "Mother shows her hand too plainly.
The girl is evidently young and pretty."
The plantation had never seemed so beautiful to him. The wild roses
were in bloom; the fringe-trees and dogwood hung white along the
riverbanks; the golden azaleas, nodding wake-robins, and muskadine
flowers looked up at them from below, while