He was by no means a tender man, but his lately-discovered misfortune had unhinged him, and this strange, undeserved, disinterested family fealty on the part of Charlie touched his heart.

And should he still try to lead him into the pitfall he had dug?
He hesitated;--no, he would show him the place by broad daylight, and if he chose to overlook the "caving bank," it would be his own fault;--a trade's a trade.
"Come," said the planter, "come at my house to-night; to-morrow we look at the place before breakfast, and finish the trade." "For what ?" said Charlie.
"Oh, because I got to come in town in the morning." "I don't want," said Charlie.

"How I'm goin' to come dere ?" "I git you a horse at the liberty stable." "Well--anyhow--I don't care--I'll go." And they went.
When they had ridden a long time, and were on the road darkened by hedges of Cherokee rose, the Colonel called behind him to the "low-down" scion: "Keep the road, old man." "Eh ?" "Keep the road." "Oh, yes; all right; I keep my word; we don't goin' to play no tricks, eh ?" But the Colonel seemed not to hear.

His ungenerous design was beginning to be hateful to him.

Not only old Charlie's unprovoked goodness was prevailing; the eulogy on Belles Demoiselles had stirred the depths of an intense love for his beautiful home.