seemed forced at his coming, now lighted up her earnest face naturally.
It was in these days that the long-planned excursion to the Rondelet plantation came off. The party assembled in the early morning at the levee, where a small steamer chartered for the occasion awaited them. The Hardens were the first to arrive; and shortly after, Bouton de Rose drove up at a sharp pace in a very shabby cab, from which he descended "with the royal air of a prince of the blood leaving his chariot of state," as Mrs. Harden said. Colonel Lagrange, very much buttoned up and military in his appearance, came next; and last of all the Ruysdales with Rondelet, who had gone to fetch them.
The day was an exquisite one, and the guests seemed to be in the best of spirits as they stepped on board the steamer. Mrs. Harden's face was wreathed with smiles, and her light, merry voice rang out cheerfully as she took an affecting farewell of her skye, yelping in the arms of the black coachman.
"My dog," she said, "my dear dog, I cannot take you with me! I dare not risk your precious life on the treacherous billow. Poor forsaken one, try to be cheerful, and don't chew up the new sofa-cushion while I am away! The old ones are still quite good enough for you to spoil.
