The owner must be a man of great wealth, the Colonel thought; perhaps, who knows, said he with a smile, he may have got some of my cotton in exchange for salt and quinine after the capture of New Orleans.

As this thought passed through his mind he was looking at the remarkable figure of the Hero of New Orleans, holding itself by main strength from sliding off the back of the rearing bronze horse, and lifting its hat in the manner of one who acknowledges the playing of that martial air: "See, the Conquering Hero Comes!" "Gad," said the Colonel to himself, "Old Hickory ought to get down and give his seat to Gen.
Sutler--but they'd have to tie him on." Laura was in the drawing room.

She heard the bell, she heard the steps in the hall, and the emphatic thud of the supporting cane.

She had risen from her chair and was leaning against the piano, pressing her left hand against the violent beating of her heart.

The door opened and the Colonel entered, standing in the full light of the opposite window.
Laura was more in the shadow and stood for an instant, long enough for the Colonel to make the inward observation that she was a magnificent Woman.