It was an open space of two or three acres, cleared from tanglewood and
dwarf palmettoes. In the centre was a log-house, larger and more
pretentious than many log-houses which he had seen in the South. A
Marshal Niel had climbed up one corner to the roof, and twined itself
around the chimney, giving a rather picturesque effect to the house, and
reminding the stranger of some of the cabins he had seen in Ireland,
with ivy growing over them. There was an attempt at a flower garden
where many roses were blooming. Some one was fond of flowers, and the
thought gave the stranger a grain of comfort, for a love of flowers was
associated in his mind with an innate refinement in the lover, and there
was for a moment a tinge of brightness in the darkness settling upon
his future. Around the house there was no sign of life or stir, except a
brood of well-grown chickens, which, with their mother, were huddled on
the door step, evidently contemplating an entrance into the house, the
door of which was open, as were the shutters to the windows, which were
minus glass, as was the fashion of many old Florida houses in the days
before the Civil War. With a shoo to the chickens, which sent some into
the house and others flying into the yard, the stranger stepped to the
door and knocked, once very gently, then more decidedly--then, as there
came no response, he ventured in, and driving out the chickens, one of
which had mounted upon a table and was pecking at a few crumbs of bread
left there, he sat down and looked about him. In the loft which could
hardly be dignified with the name chamber, he heard a low murmur of
voices, and the sound of footsteps moving rapidly, as if some one were
in a hurry. The room in which he sat was evidently living and
dining-room both, and was destitute of everything which he deemed
necessary to comfort. He had been in a Cracker's house before, and it
seemed to him now that his heart turned over when he recalled his visits
there, and his utter disregard of his surroundings.