on christmas-eve, after dinner, as general and mrs. gaston, miss trevennon and mr. louis gaston were seated around the drawing-room fire, a card of invitation was brought in by thomas, and delivered to general gaston. as he took it and scanned it through his glasses, a perceptible gleam of satisfaction came into his eyes, and he handed it to mrs. gaston, saying:

“a card for general morton’s supper.”

“indeed!” returned his wife, with a reflection of his gratified expression. “really, this is very kind.”

as she took the card and looked at it, margaret surveyed her wonderingly. turning her eyes away from her cousin’s face, an instant later, she saw that louis gaston was regarding her with a sort of deprecating amusement. he was seated near to her, and so he alone distinguished her words, when she murmured, in an undertone:

“‘how strange are the customs of france’!”

she smiled as she said it, and cousin eugenia, who saw the smile, but missed the words she had uttered, said explainingly:

“this supper of general morton’s is an annual affair. he has given one on new year’s night ever since he has been in washington. they are limited to twenty-five gentlemen, and of course these are carefully selected. it is always the most recherché stag-party of the season, and one is sure of meeting there the most distinguished and agreeable people the city will afford. he has always been so kind in asking edward, though of course the invitations are greatly in demand, and residents cannot always expect to receive them.”

nothing further was said about the matter just then, but it was evident that this attention from general morton had put mrs. gaston in unusually high spirits, and her husband, on his part, was scarcely less elated.

a little later, when louis and margaret happened to be alone, the former said:

“i wish you would tell me what it was that amused you about that invitation. the system of social tactics, of which you are the exponent, begins to interest me extremely. what was it that brought that puzzled look to your face just now?”

“shall i really tell?” the girl asked, doubtfully.

“pray do—frankly. i’m so interested to know.”

“i was wondering who this general morton could be, that a card to his supper should be deemed such an acquisition. i have discovered the fact that you gastons are proud of your lineage, and, as i have heard it said that yours is one of the few really historical families of america, perhaps it should not be wondered at. who then, can general morton be, i was thinking, to be in a position to confer honor on the gastons? i suppose he’s some one very grand, but i’m such an ignoramus that i really don’t know who the mortons are, when they’re at home.”

“i believe morton’s origin was very common,” said louis. “certainly, he has no sort of claim to aristocratic distinction. he has a high official position and is very rich and a very good-natured, sensible sort of man, but it is out of the question that he could, socially speaking, confer honor upon my brother.”

“and yet it was evident,” began margaret—but she stopped abruptly, and louis made no motion to help her out.

“do you know,” he said, presently, “that, through your influence, miss trevennon, i have been gradually undergoing certain changes in my points of view. i am getting an insight into your social basis and system, and, stubborn yankee as i am, i must admit that there’s something fine in it. i really think i begin to feel myself veering perceptibly. until i met you, i had no idea what a difference there was between the northern and southern ideas of these matters.”

“but i must not be taken as a strict representative of the southern idea—nor you, i suppose, for a strict representative of the northern idea,” said margaret. “at home, they think me a great radical. i have no special respect for pedigrees in general. that one’s forefathers should have been honest is the first thing, it seems to me, and that they should have been social luminaries should come a long way after.”

“you rather amaze me in that,” said louis. “i thought there were no sticklers for birth and ancestry like the southerners.”

“it is perfectly true of a large class of them,” said margaret; “but i have seen too much of the degeneration of distinguished families in the south, to have much sympathy with that idea. in too many cases they have lacked the spirit to save them from such degeneration, and, that being the case, what does their blood go for? it ought to go for nothing, i think—worse than nothing, for if it has any virtue at all, it should make its possessors independent and manly.”

“you have sometimes sneered a little gentle sneer at the gaston pride—have you not?” said louis; “and i’ve sometimes thought it odd, because i had always been told that the pride of the southern people is unprecedented.”

“it is of a different sort,” said margaret; “for instance——”

but she checked herself, and colored.

“oh, pray give me the example,” said louis, earnestly. “illustrations are such helps. i beg you will not let any over-sensibility prevent your speaking plainly. it may be that you’ve got the best of these social questions. i want to be able to judge.”

“how honest and fair you are!” said margaret, “and how rare that spirit is! i really think i’ll tell you frankly what i was going to say. you know what an appreciation of your brother i have, and how entirely his fine qualities command my respect, but i will not deny that his bearing in the matter of this invitation has amazed me. i think i am safe in saying that no southern man, in your brother’s sphere of society, could possibly be found—no matter how insulated or behind the times he might be—no matter how poor or incapable or ignorant, who could be agitated and flattered by an invitation from general morton or general anybody else. the notion would never penetrate their brains. but i am very bold,” she said, checking herself suddenly. “i am afraid i have said too much.”

“it would be too much for any one else to say to me certainly,” said louis, looking steadily at her, “and i cannot say the idea you suggest is exactly palatable; but i think i could hardly take offence at words of yours.”

at that moment the door-bell rang, and presently thomas announced general reardon.

“generals seem to be the order of the day,” said margaret, with a smile, as the visitor was crossing the hall. “i might be back in bassett for the prevalence of titles.”

miss trevennon greeted general reardon with great cordiality, and set herself at once to the task of entertaining him. he called only occasionally at the gastons’ house, as he did not enjoy their society any more than they did his. he had been in the united states army before the war, and had been extremely popular among the officers, being possessed of a fund of anecdote and humor, which congealed instantly in the atmosphere of the gastons’ drawing-room, but flowed freely enough in camps and barracks. he was of a good southern family, and essentially a gentleman. his visits, as has been indicated, were not especially inspiring to the gastons, but cousin eugenia had detected in her husband a faint tendency to slight this distant cousin of hers, and it was just like her, after that, to treat him with greater distinction. general gaston, in truth, found it a little difficult to ignore the fact that he was an officer in the federal army who had gone with the south, and certainly did not enjoy his visits; but he stood in some awe of his wife, which enabled him partially to conceal the fact that he chafed under her cousin’s companionship.

when thomas had summoned his master and mistress to the drawing-room, mrs. gaston seated herself near general reardon, and at once fell into fluent conversation with him. general gaston, for his part, established himself half-way between this couple and the pair who were seated on the other side of the fire-place. he sat very straight and erect in his chair, occasionally making a rather forced remark to general reardon, who, in his turn, was conscious of being bored and ill at ease, but entirely unconscious of being the object of any slight whatever. it occurred to him, perhaps, that his host’s manner was peculiar, even unfortunate, but it would have taken a great deal to convey to his honest breast the suspicion that any gentleman alive could mean to slight a visitor in his own house.

mrs. gaston, when she chose, could talk agreeably to any one on almost any subject, and she was now discussing crops and market-gardening, and listening, with great vivacity of expression, to a detailed account that general reardon was giving of the reports his wife—whom he called “loose,” her name being lucy—related of the result of a little venture in the way of a market-garden which they had made.

“by-the-way, general,” said the visitor, breaking off suddenly from his conversation with mrs. gaston, and turning to address her husband, as if struck with a sudden thought; “are you invited to this supper of general morton’s?”

imperceptible bristles began to rise over general gaston’s surface. he drew himself still more erect, and cleared his throat once or twice before answering.

“ah—i beg your pardon—ah—yes,” said general gaston, with an inflection that suggested that he was rather asking a question than answering one. he cleared his throat again and went on, with a certain superciliousness that margaret noted carefully. “general morton has been kind enough to remember me and send me a card. there is always a very distinguished company at these suppers of his, and i shouldn’t think of missing this.”

“loose wants me to go,” responded general reardon, in indolent, indifferent tones that set margaret’s blood a-tingling with delight; “but i don’t care anything about it. i s’pose the men’ll all wear swallow-tails, and i haven’t got one. i’ll tell morton he’ll have to let me off.—what i was going to tell you about the potato crop, is this,” he said, returning to his conversation with mrs. gaston, as being the more interesting of the two. “loose says, if we’d planted early rose——”

but margaret listened no further. she knew louis was looking at her, and she had drawn down the corners of her mouth, demurely, in her efforts not to laugh; but her eyes brimmed over with such sparkling merriment, that the mouth’s quiescence went for little.

mr. gaston presently drew out his watch, and reminded miss trevennon of the fact that it was nearly time to set out for the theatre, in fulfilment of their engagement, so she excused herself, and went to put on her wraps.

when the two young people found themselves alone together, in the clear, bracing atmosphere of the city streets—they had chosen to walk—margaret began the conversation by saying:

“alan decourcy called while we were out driving this morning. i hope we shall not happen to be in view of the theatre-party to night; it would be a little awkward, as we both refused to join it.”

“not at all,” said louis, “they need never know but that our engagement antedated their invitation. don’t give yourself any uneasiness about that.”

when they had gone on a few moments in silence, louis said in his pleasant voice, which even in the darkness indicated that he was smiling:

“well, you had your little triumph this evening!”

“i did,” returned margaret, with a soft, little laugh, “and i must say i enjoyed it. but i was wondering how he happened to know general morton.”

“oh, i dare say they were chums in the united states army, before the war,” said louis. “only think what a chance that man threw away! why, if he had remained in the union army he might have been a major-general by this time.”

“he is a major-general, i think,” said margaret, demurely; “or is it only a brigadier?”

“you impertinent little rebel!” said louis. “how dare you say that to me? how do you know i will submit to such audacity? you make heavy draughts upon my clemency.”

“i’m afraid i do,” said margaret; “but i’ve always had them generously honored. but while we are on the subject, there’s one thing that i do want to say to you. do you know, i have observed that your brother never gives general reardon his title? in speaking of him to me or cousin eugenia, he always says ‘your cousin,’ and in speaking to him he avoids calling him anything at all. once only, when he had to say something, he called him ‘mr. reardon.’ he did indeed!”

“well, in point of fact, you know,” said louis, rather uncomfortably, “he’s got no more right to the title of general than you have. the point has been definitely decided. it is only a matter of courtesy.”

“i don’t know who had the power to decide it,” margaret said; “but we are not considering the point of legal right. its being, as you admit, a matter of courtesy, should settle the thing, i think. don’t you?”

“yes,” he said, “i do. i’m not sure i always thought so, but i do now.”

when they reached the theatre, they found the overture just begun. a few minutes later they saw mrs. vere’s party enter and place themselves in their box. the dashing young hostess led the way, and seated herself en évidence, with a brilliant party grouped about her. one or two of these margaret recognized, and louis knew them all, naming them, withoutcomment, to margaret. there was some one whom they did not see, sitting in the shadow behind the curtain, and to this person mrs. vere directed a greater part of her attention. she constantly leaned to speak to him, or bowed her head to catch his utterances, casting toward him now and then the languishing looks which her peculiarly long eyelashes rendered so effective. margaret felt that this person was alan decourcy, and at the end of the first act her suspicion was proved to be correct, as he then rose and came to mrs. vere’s side to take a survey of the house. he looked very graceful and elegant, but, in some way, the great charm his appearance had once possessed for her was gone.

when she turned her eyes away from him, they rested, almost without any volition of her own, upon louis gaston’s quiet profile. he was looking away from her, and so she could scan at leisure the earnest lineaments that had in them a genuineness and nobleness so much better than beauty. the more she felt her disappointment in alan decourcy, the more she believed in and rested upon louis gaston’s friendship. imperceptibly her regard for him had widened and deepened, until now merely to think of him was to feel peaceful and safe and at rest.