"Yes, I suppose so," responded Deborah, absently.
"Do you return to town this morning?" inquired Fairfield, as they all passed through the sitting-room.
"Yes. Though if I could help it, I would not."
"I'll ride with you, then. I am going to-day to call on Rockwell. Good-morning, Lucy. Ah, Vincent!"
"You ride to town to-day?" inquired Vincent, when the greetings were over. "You'll see Rockwell to-morrow, you know, at our famous ball."
"Um—yes, but I prefer to-day. I've a matter to arrange with him."
At this speech Deborah glanced at Fairfield, and, at the meaning in his look, a wave of color rolled swiftly over her face. It was as well that, at this moment, Madam Trevor, with Virginia close behind her, entered the breakfast-room, and the morning meal began.
CHAPTER VIII
The Governor's Ball
Tuesday passed as rapidly or as slowly as one would have had the last day before a long-looked-for event. Sir Charles rode away in the early morning, but returned to the plantation in the afternoon, to find even Vincent busy over a package of finery sent out, at Madam Trevor's order, from the Baltimore. Sir Charles himself was not interested. His spotless full-dress uniform, his orders, his finest ruffles, his paste buckles and silk stockings were quite ready, and there were no further touches that he could add to the costume. During the afternoon and evening he paid no attention at all to Deborah, but was, on the contrary, so attentive to his fiancée that Madam Trevor softened and grew voluble with pleasure.