"Mr. K——, this is Madam P——, my housekeeper; she will try to make you forget that Mrs. J—— is absent."
After a few customary courtesies were exchanged, I was shown to a dressing-room, and with the aid of Jim, a razor, and one of the Colonel's shirts—all of mine having undergone a drenching—soon made a tolerably presentable appearance. The negro then conducted me to the breakfast-room, where I found the family assembled.
It consisted, besides the housekeeper, of a tall, raw-boned, sandy-haired personage, with a low brow, a blear eye, and a sneaking look—the overseer of the plantation; and of a well-mannered, intelligent lad—with the peculiarly erect carriage and uncommon blending of good-natured ease and dignity which distinguished my host—who was introduced to me as the housekeeper's son.
Madam P——, who presided over the "tea-things," was a person of perhaps thirty-five, but a rich olive complexion, enlivened by a delicate red tint, and relieved by thick masses of black hair, made her appear to a casual observer several years younger. Her face bore vestiges of great beauty, which time, and, perhaps, care, had mellowed but not obliterated, and her conversation indicated high cultivation. She had evidently mingled in refined society in this country and in Europe, and it was a strange freak of fortune that had reduced her to a menial condition in the family of a backwoods planter.
After some general conversation, the Colonel remarked that his wife and daughter would pass the winter in Charleston.
"And do you remain on the plantation?" I inquired.
"Oh yes, I am needed here," he replied; "but Madam's son is with my family."
"Madam's son!" I exclaimed in astonishment, forgetting in my surprise that the lady was present.
"Yes, sir," she remarked, "my oldest boy is twenty."
"Excuse me, Madam; I forgot that in your climate one never grows old."