Somehow the visit of the grocer had lifted him out of the cares of the
day. How, he could not tell. Perhaps it was the fragrance of the
Madeira; perhaps the respectful, overawed bow,--the bow of the tradesman
the world over to the landed proprietor,--restoring to him for one
brief moment that old feudal supremacy which above all else his soul
loved. Perhaps it was only the warmth and cheer and comfort of it all.
Whatever it was, it buoyed and strengthened him. He was again in the
old dining-hall at home: the servants moving noiselessly about; the
cut-glass decanters reflected in the polished mahogany; the candles
lighted; his old, white-haired father, in his high-backed chair, sipping
his wine from the slender glass.
Ah, the proud estate of the old plantation days! Would they ever be
his again?
CHAPTER IV
_The Arrival of a True Southern Lady_
"Mistress yer, sah! Come yistidd'y mawnin'."
How Chad beamed all over when this simple statement fell from his lips!
I had not seen him since the night when he stood behind my chair and
with bated breath whispered his anxieties lest the second advent of
"de grocerman" should bring dire destruction to the colonel's household.
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