"Olive will come down in about ten minutes; she told me to tell you that. About ten; that is exactlylike Olive. Neither five nor fifteen, and yet not ten exactly, but either nine or eleven. She didn't tellme to say she was glad to see you, because she doesn't know whether she is or not, and she wouldn'tfor the world expose herself to telling a fib. She is very honest, is Olive Chancellor; she is full ofrectitude. Nobody tells fibs in Boston; I don't know what to make of them all. Well, I am very gladto see you, at any rate."These words were spoken with much volubility by a fair, plump, smiling woman who entered anarrow drawing-room in which a visitor, kept waiting for a few moments, was already absorbed in abook. The gentleman had not even needed to sit down to become interested: apparently he hadtaken up the volume from a table as soon as he came in, and, standing there, after a single glanceround the apartment, had lost himself in its pages. He threw it down at the approach of Mrs. Luna, laughed, shook hands with her, and said in answer to her last remark, "You imply that you do tellfibs. Perhaps that is one.""Oh no; there is nothing wonderful in my being glad to see you," Mrs. Luna rejoined, "when I tellyou that I have been three long weeks in this unprevaricating city.""That has an unflattering sound for me," said the young man. "I pretend not to prevaricate.""Dear me, what's the good of being a Southerner?" the lady asked. "Olive told me to tell you shehoped you will stay to dinner. And if she said it, she does really hope it. She is willing to risk that.""Just as I am?" the visitor inquired, presenting himself with rather a work-a-day aspect.Mrs. Luna glanced at him from head to foot, and gave a little smiling sigh, as if he had been a longsum in addition. And, indeed, he was very long, Basil Ransom, and he even looked a little hard anddiscouraging, like a column of figures, in spite of the friendly face which he bent upon his hostess'sdeputy, and which, in its thinness, had a deep dry line, a sort of premature wrinkle, on either side ofthe mouth. He was tall and lean, and dressed throughout in black; his shirt-collar was low and wide, and the triangle of linen, a little crumpled, exhibited by the opening of his waistcoat, was adorned bya pin containing a small red stone. In spite of this decoration the young man looked poor-as pooras a young man could look who had such a fine head and such magnificent eyes. Those of BasilRansom were dark, deep, and glowing; his head had a character of elevation which fairly added tohis stature; it was a head to be seen above the level of a crowd, on some judicial bench or politicalplatform, or even on a bronze medal. His forehead was high and broad, and his thick black hair, perfectly straight and glossy, and without any division, rolled back from it in a leonine manner.These things, the eyes especially, with their smouldering fire, might have indicated that he was to bea great American statesman; or, on the other hand, they might simply have proved that he camefrom Carolina or Alaba