The House Behind the Cedars | Page 9

they looked up with fond reverence. For he was
not only a son,--a brother--but he represented to them the world from
which circum stances had shut them out, and to which distance lent

even more than its usual enchantment; and they felt nearer to this
far-off world because of the glory which Warwick reflected from it.
"You're a very pretty girl," said Warwick, regarding his sister
thoughtfully. "I followed you down Front Street this morning, and
scarcely took my eyes off you all the way; and yet I didn't know you,
and scarcely saw your face. You improve on acquaintance; to-night, I
find you handsomer still."
"Now, John," said his mother, expostulating mildly, "you'll spile her, if
you don't min'."
The girl was beaming with gratified vanity. What woman would not
find such praise sweet from almost any source, and how much more so
from this great man, who, from his exalted station in the world, must
surely know the things whereof he spoke! She believed every word of it;
she knew it very well indeed, but wished to hear it repeated and
itemized and emphasized.
"No, he won't, mamma," she asserted, "for he's flattering me. He talks
as if I was some rich young lady, who lives on the Hill,"--the Hill was
the aristocratic portion of the town,-- "instead of a poor"
"Instead of a poor young girl, who has the hill to climb," replied her
brother, smoothing her hair with his hand. Her hair was long and
smooth and glossy, with a wave like the ripple of a summer breeze
upon the surface of still water. It was the girl's great pride, and had
been sedulously cared for. "What lovely hair! It has just the wave that
yours lacks, mother."
"Yes," was the regretful reply, "I've never be'n able to git that wave out.
But her hair's be'n took good care of, an' there ain't nary gal in town
that's got any finer."
"Don't worry about the wave, mother. It's just the fashionable ripple,
and becomes her immensely. I think my little Albert favors his Aunt
Rena somewhat."

"Your little Albert!" they cried. "You've got a child?"
"Oh, yes," he replied calmly, "a very fine baby boy."
They began to purr in proud contentment at this information, and made
minute inquiries about the age and weight and eyes and nose and other
important details of this precious infant. They inquired more coldly
about the child's mother, of whom they spoke with greater warmth
when they learned that she was dead. They hung breathless on
Warwick's words as he related briefly the story of his life since he had
left, years before, the house behind the cedars--how with a stout heart
and an abounding hope he had gone out into a seemingly hostile world,
and made fortune stand and deliver. His story had for the women the
charm of an escape from captivity, with all the thrill of a pirate's tale.
With the whole world before him, he had remained in the South, the
land of his fathers, where, he conceived, he had an inalienable
birthright. By some good chance he had escaped military service in the
Confederate army, and, in default of older and more experienced men,
had undertaken, during the rebellion, the management of a large estate,
which had been left in the hands of women and slaves. He had filled the
place so acceptably, and employed his leisure to such advantage, that at
the close of the war he found himself--he was modest enough to think,
too, in default of a better man--the husband of the orphan daughter of
the gentleman who had owned the plantation, and who had lost his life
upon the battlefield. Warwick's wife was of good family, and in a more
settled condition of society it would not have been easy for a young
man of no visible antecedents to win her hand. A year or two later, he
had taken the oath of allegiance, and had been admitted to the South
Carolina bar. Rich in his wife's right, he had been able to practice his
profession upon a high plane, without the worry of sordid cares, and
with marked success for one of his age.
"I suppose," he concluded, "that I have got along at the bar, as
elsewhere, owing to the lack of better men. Many of the good lawyers
were killed in the war, and most of the remainder were disqualified;
while I had the advantage of being alive, and of never having been in
arms against the government. People had to have lawyers, and they

gave me their business in preference to the carpet- baggers. Fortune,
you know, favors the available man."
His mother drank in with parted lips and glistening eyes the story of his
adventures and the record of