“As I stood before the case and looked at them the tragedy of all the long fight came back to me.  I caught my breath and turned away—­and there stood a girl!  I knew her instantly, for I was looking straight into Mary Caroline’s own purple eyes.  Then I just opened my arms and held her close, calling Mary Caroline’s name over and over.  There was no one else in the great room and it was quiet and solemn and still.  Then she put her hand against my face and looked at me and said in the loveliest tenderest voice: 

“‘It’s my mother’s Matilda, isn’t it?  I have the old daguerreotype!’ And I smiled back and we kissed each other and cried—­and then cried some more.”

“I haven’t a doubt of those tears,” answered the major in a suspiciously gruff voice.  “But where’s the girl?  Why didn’t you bring her right back with you?  She is ours, Matilda, that purple-eyed girl.  When is she coming?  Call Tempie and tell her to have Jane get those two south-wing rooms ready right away.  I want Jeff to fill up the decanters with the fifty-six claret, too, and to put—­”

“But wait, Major, I couldn’t get her to come home with me!  We went out into the sunshine and for a long drive into the country.  We talked and talked.  It is the saddest thing in the world, but she is convinced that her mother’s people are not going to like her.  She has been taught that we are so prejudiced.  I think she has found out about the carpetbagging.  She is so sensitive!  She came because she couldn’t help it; she wanted just to see her mother’s country.  She’s only been here two days.  She intends to steal away back now, over to Europe, I think.  I tried to make her see—­”

“Matilda,” said the major sternly, “go right back and tell that child to pack her dimity and come straight here to me.  Carpetbagging, indeed!—­Mary Caroline’s girl with purple eyes!  Did old Brown have any purple eyes, I’d like to know?”

“I made her promise not to go until tomorrow.  I think she would feel differently if we could get her to stay a little while.  I want her to stay.  She is so lonely.  My little boy loved Mary Caroline and grieved for her when she went away.  I feel I must have this child to comfort for a time at least.”

“Of course she must stay.  Did she promise she wouldn’t slip away from you?”

“Yes, but I’m uneasy.  I think I will go down to her hotel right now.  Do you mind about being alone for lunch?  Does Tempie get your coffee right?”

“She does pretty well considering that she hasn’t been tasting it for thirty years.  But you go get that child, Matilda.  Bring her right back with you.  Don’t stop to argue with her, I’ll attend to all that later; just bring her home!”

And as Mrs. Buchanan departed the major rose and stood at the window until he saw her get into her carriage and be driven out of sight.  Looking down the vista of the long street, his eyes had a faraway tender light, and as he turned and took up his pipe from the table his thoughts slipped back into the province of memory.  He settled himself in his chair before his fire to muse a bit between the whiffs of his heart-leaf.