"
He led the way into the house, and through the hall to a massive door of
mahogany with a silver door-knob. The grandeur of the place awed me, and
well it might. Boy-like, I was absorbed in this. Our little mountain
cabin would almost have gone into this one room. The candles threw their
flickering rays upward until they danced on the high ceiling. Marvel of
marvels, in the oval left clear by the heavy, rounded cornice was a
picture.
The negro set down the candles on the marble top of a table. But the air
of the room was heavy and close, and the gentleman went to a window and
flung it open. It came down instantly with a crash, so that the panes
rattled again.
"Curse these Rebels," he shouted, "they've taken our window weights to
make bullets."
Calling to the negro to pry open the window with a walking-stick, he
threw himself into a big, upholstered chair. 'Twas then I remarked the
splendor of his clothes, which were silk. And he wore a waistcoat all
sewed with flowers. With a boy's intuition, I began to dislike him
intensely.
"Damn the Rebels!" he began. "They've driven his Lordship away. I hope
his Majesty will hang every mother's son of 'em. All pleasure of life is
gone, and they've folly enough to think they can resist the fleet. And
the worst of it is," cried he, "the worst of it is, I'm forced to smirk
to them, and give good gold to their government.
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