When Dr. Lacey reached the age of twenty-one, his father made him the owner of the house, he himself removing to another part of the city. At the time of which we are speaking, nothing could exceed the beauty of the house and grounds.
The yard which surrounded the building was large, and laid out with all the taste of a perfect connoisseur. In its center was a fountain, whose limpid waters fell into a large marble basin, while the spray which constantly arose from the falling stream seemed to render the heat of that sultry climate less oppressive. Scattered throughout the yard were the numerous trees and flowering shrubs which grow in profusion at the "sunny South." Here the beautiful magnolia shook its white blossoms in the evening breeze, and there the dark green foliage of the orange trees formed an effectual screen from the mid-day sun.
The building was surrounded on all sides by a double piazza, the slender pillars of which were entwined by the flowering honeysuckle and luxuriant passion-flower, which gave the house the appearance of a closely wreathed arbor. Within the piazza was filled with rare tropical plants. The beautiful oleander, magnificent rose and sweet-scented geranium, here united their fragrance, while the scarlet verbenum and brilliant heliotrope added beauty to the scene.
The interior of the building corresponded with the exterior. The rooms, large and airy, were carpeted with velvet, and [pg 105] adorned with costly marble and rosewood furniture. The windows, which were constructed in the French style, that is, reaching to the floor, were curtained with richly-embroidered lace. Let us ascend the winding staircase, and enter the dressing room of the owner of all this splendor.
Half reclining on a crimson lounge sits Dr. Lacey, dressed in a fashionable brocade morning gown. On first glancing at him we think there is no change in his countenance since we last saw him on Mrs. Crane's steps in Frankfort, but as we note the expression of his face we can perceive a shade of anxiety resting there. At last he rises and rather impatiently pulls the bell rope.
His summons is immediately answered by an exquisite dandy, who is neither African, European, French, nor Spanish, but an odd mixture of the four. He is dressed in the extreme of fashion, and on entering the room bows most gracefully, at the same time casting an admiring glance at himself in the large mirror, and passing his hand carelessly through his perfumed locks. With the utmost deference, he awaits the commands of his master.
"Well, Rondeau," said Dr. Lacey, "haven't you finished breakfast yet?"
"Yes, marster," answered Rondeau, with a very low bow. "I've got through a moment since. What can I do for you. Will you ride this morning?"
"No," answered Dr. Lacey, "I do not wish to ride, but I want you to go to the post office and back immediately; remember now, and not stop to gossip."
"Certainly not," said the negro. "When marster's in a hurry, Rondeau is never foolin' away time."