CHAPTER XII
AN UNEXPECTED GREETING
The Orderly called a cab and assisted Jeanne into it, putting her satchel and basket beside her. Then springing in he gave the order and they were off.
Past Lafayette Square with its city hall, churches and Odd Fellows Hall which were grouped round it with fine effect they went, and on into that portion of the city that was known as the Faubourg Marigny whose residences were built with more architectural generosity, broader spaces, longer vistas, ampler gardens and with more sacrifices to the picturesque than the part of the city through which they had just passed.
At last the cab turned into the courtyard of a massive brick building. It was a true Spanish building with broad doorways and windows, the roof of which was a solid terrace surrounded by a stone balustrade. The establishment had all the privacy of isolation and seclusion and was a charming spot. The gardens were very large and spacious, and fragrant with the blossoms from the magnolia groves. The avenue to the house was shaded with orange trees that later would be redolent with perfume and beautiful beyond description. Fruit trees were everywhere. Pomegranate, peach, banana, fig, pear interspersed with rose trees and jasmine whose odors ravished the senses.
The cab swept in an extensive circle round the courtyard to the carriage step before the broad doorway. A tall gentleman, elegantly appareled, stood leaning in an easy attitude against one of the pillars of the broad piazza smoking a cigar. He advanced to meet the arrivals as the Orderly threw open the door of the cab and handed out the girl.
“General Butler presents his compliments to Mr. and Madame Vance,” he said, with a deep bow, “and begs to introduce to them their niece, Miss Vance of New York.”
“My niece!” exclaimed the gentleman giving Jeanne a look of astonishment. “I have none unless my brother has a daughter. Are you Dick’s child?”
“Yes,” replied Jeanne, her heart beating quickly. “You are Uncle Ben, aren’t you?” with a trace of wistfulness in her voice.
“I am Benjamin Vance at least,” was the answer. “Come in. I don’t know your name, but you are welcome if you are Dick’s daughter.”
“I am Richard Vance’s daughter,” replied Jeanne with some dignity.