ccented in the lustre of the vivid
day, albeit for the most part they were of a null, negative tendency,
for he had an inexpressive, impersonal manner and a sort of aloof,
reserved dignity. His outward aspect seemed rather the affair of his
up-to-date metropolitan tailor and barber than any exponent of his
character and mind. He was not much beyond thirty years of age, and his
straight, fine, dark hair was worn at the temples more by the
fluctuations of stocks than the ravages of time. He was pale, of medium
height, and slight of build; he listened with a grave, deliberate
attention and an inscrutable gray eye, very steady, coolly observant, an
appreciable asset in the brokerage business. He was all unaccustomed to
the waste of time, and it was with no slight degree of impatience that
he looked about him.

The magnolia grove filled the space to the half-seen gate in front of
the house, but away on either side were long vistas. To the right the
river was visible, and, being one of the great bends of the stream, it
seemed to run directly to the west, the prospect only limited by the
horizon line. On the other side, a glare, dazzlingly white in the sun,
proclaimed the cotton-fields. Afar the gin-house showed, with its
smoke-stack, like an obeliscal column, from which issued heavy coils of
vapor, and occasionally came the raucous grating of a screw, telling
that the baler was at work. Interspersed throughout the fields were the
busy cotton-pickers, and now and again rose snatches of song as they
heaped the great baskets in the turn-rows.

Within the purlieus of the inclosure about the mansion there was no stir
of industry, no sign of life, save indeed an old hound lying on the
veranda steps, looking up with great, liquid, sherry-tinted eyes at the
stranger, and, though wheezing a wish to lick his hand, unable to muster
the energy to rise.

After an interval of a few moments Gordon turned within. He felt that he
must forthwith get at the papers and set this little matter in order. He
paused baffled at the door of the parlor, where satin damask and
rosewood furniture, lace curtains and drawn shades, held out no promise
of repositories of business papers. On the opposite side of the hall was
a sitting-room that bore evidence of constant use. Here was a desk of
the old-fashioned kind, with a bookcase as a superstructure, and a
writing-table stood in the centre of the floor, equipped with a number
of drawers which were all lo