turned our backs upon our old life, our old home, and faced the world
anew, in a strange place where nothing was familiar, and where I who
had begun so differently was destined to grow into what I have since
become--just an old priest, with but small reputation outside of his
few friends and poor working-folks. There! That is quite enough of
_me_!

There was one pleasant feature of our new home that rejoiced me for my
mother's sake. From the very first she found neighbors who were
friendly and charming. Now my mother, when we came to Appleboro, was
still a beautiful woman, fair and rosy, with a profusion of _blonde
cendre_ curls just beginning to whiten, a sweet and arch face, and
eyes of clearest hazel, valanced with jet. She had been perhaps the
loveliest and most beloved woman of that proud and select circle which
is composed of families descended from the old noblesse, the most
exclusive circle of New Orleans society. And, as she said, nothing
could change nor alter the fact that no matter _what_ happened to us,
we were still De Rancés!

"Ah! And was it, then, a De Rancé who had the holy Mother of God
painted in a family picture, with a scroll issuing from her lips
addressing him as 'My Cousin'?" I asked, slyly.

"If it was, nobody in the world had a better right!" said she stoutly.

Thus the serene and unquestioning faith of their estimate of
themselves in the scheme of things, as evidenced by these Carolina
folk around her, caused Madame De Rancé neither surprise nor
amusement. She understood. She shared many of their prejudices, and
she of all women could appreciate a pride that was almost equal to her