“Yes, I know, Fair,” said the other from the great chair.  “We are friends as well as brothers.  I’m as glad for your happiness as if it were my own, and I’ll ride with you to Fontenoy to kiss my new sister.  You’ve both chosen wisely, and it’s a great day for Greenwood!  Stop that striding here and there like an ecstatic lion!  Sit down and tell me all about it again.  The wine’s good, and I’ll light more candles.  There!”

“You’re the best fellow in the world, Ludwell,” said the younger gratefully.  “She had on a gown with little flowers all over a yellowy ground, and there was a curl that came down on her white neck—­and when I had gone away forever and then felt her hand upon my arm, it was like a sword-stroke opening Paradise.  It isn’t really late, is it?  I could talk till dawn!”

CHAPTER XVIII

THE GREEN DOOR

The coach of Mrs. Jane Selden entered Charlottesville at nine in the morning, and did not turn homeward again until the afternoon stood at four.  The intermediate hours were diligently used by the small and withered lady in plum-coloured silk and straw bonnet, scarf of striped, apple-green gauze, and turkey-feather fan.  She came to town but once in three months, and made of each visit a field day.  Every store was called at, for buying must be done for herself and her plantation to last until Christmas-tide.  Lutestring, calico, chintz and prunella, linsey and osnaburg; gilt-edged paper, sticks of wax, and fine black ink; drugs of sorts, bohea, spice, and china were bought and bestowed in brown paper parcels in corners of a vehicle ample as Cinderella’s pumpkin coach, while Jamaica sugar and Java coffee, old rum, molasses, salt and vinegar, hardware, kitchen things, needs of the quarter, and all heavy matters were left to be called for by her wagon next day.  Shopping over, she took dinner with an ancient friend, and afterwards called upon the doctor and the minister.  The post-office came next in order, and then the blacksmith, for one of her four sleepy coach horses had cast a shoe.  The fault remedied, she looked at her watch.  “Half-past three.  Stop at the green door, Gabriel.”

Coach and four made a wide turn, swung drowsily down the main street, and drew up before a one-story brick building with a green door and a black lettered sign above, “Lewis Rand, Attorney-at-Law.”

Mrs. Selden, putting her head out of the window, directed a small negro, lounging near, to raise the knocker below the sign; but before she could be obeyed, the door opened and Rand himself came quickly down the steps.  “Come, come!” he said; “I knew it was your day in town, and I was wondering if you were going by without a word.”

“Don’t I always stop?  A habit is a habit.  We are all miserable sinners, and the world can’t get on without lawyers.  I want to ask you how I’m to keep old Tom Carfax off my land.  There is no one with you?”