He ended with a smile as they stopped before a house set far back in a grove of trees. Walking beside him up the broad brick pavement, bordered on each side by high box, Everett realized that he was standing before the typically Southern home, with its façade of massive white columns, its wide green blinds against the red bricks, and its broad, hospitable verandas.
When he stood in the cool shade of the hall, the glare of the brilliant day shut out, the old gentleman's wife came forward to meet them. Looking down into her gentle sweet face Everett found himself wondering if Judge Houston and the grey haired gentle woman could not be some kin—for the long life together, the practice of the same pursuits, the indulgence, or more the renunciation of similar tastes had wrought a likeness between them which made the wife seem but a more delicate feminine edition of the man.
"You see the resemblance, Maria?" Judge Houston said to his wife, when the introduction was over.
"Oh yes, indeed—I saw it at once," she murmured in a low voice, and Everett thought he saw tears in her eyes as she turned quickly away. "I shall tell Cynthie to have dinner at once. I know you have been starving. Think of it—on a boat for a month!"
Everett turned back to Judge Houston as they were left alone and found the old gentleman smiling upon him with the same sad expression he had found in Mrs. Houston's eyes.
"I seem to remind you of someone," he said slowly, hesitating in the doubt of intruding upon what was evidently their sorrow.
"Yes—your resemblance to my son is very striking. He went out into the Western territories with some pioneers when he was just about your age. He was unlucky—the Indians—it is a long story—I shall tell it to you one of these days." The old gentleman pulled forward a chair and waved Everett towards one beside him. "And you are going to Mistress Brandon's?" he added, evidently wishing to change the subject.
"Yes," Everett answered. "I shall be glad to have you tell me something about her and her family for I practically know nothing. My chum at college, Morgan Talbot, is a kinsman of Mistress Brandon and he carried on the correspondence with her about me. She is taking me entirely on his recommendation, and I'm sure," he laughed, "she can't know Morgan well, or she wouldn't take a recommendation from a person who lets his heart rule his brain as Morgan does. It was entirely his friendship for me that made him do it."
"You must remember that when we get down here we don't have many opportunities to see relatives who live so far away as Boston. Mistress Brandon is a very capable and well educated woman. She has superintended the management of the plantation ever since Brandon died and has done it remarkably well; indeed, she is the wealthiest woman in this part of the state. There are three children. The eldest is not her child—she is a daughter of Brandon's first wife."
Just then Mrs. Houston reappeared to ask them into dinner.