The dinner of city life was still called supper in the South, and
Harry hastened to his room to prepare. His heart began to throb with
excitement. Now they were to have visitors at night and a mysterious
stranger was there. He felt dimly the advance of great events.

Harry Kenton was a normal and healthy boy, but the discussions, the
debates, and the passions sweeping over the Union throughout the year
had sifted into Pendleton also. The news today had merely struck fire
to tinder prepared already, and, infused with the spirit of youth,
he felt much excitement but no depression. Making a careful toilet
he descended to the drawing room a little before the regular time.
Although he was early, his father was there before him, standing in his
customary attitude with his back to the hearth, and his hands clasped
behind him.

"Our guest will be down in a few minutes," said Colonel Kenton. "He
comes from Charleston and his name is Raymond Louis Bertrand. I will
explain how he is related to us."

He gave a chain of cousins extending on either side from the Kenton
family and the Bertrand family until they joined in the middle. It was
a slender tie of kinship, but it sufficed in the South. As he finished,
Bertrand himself came in, and was introduced formally to his Kentucky
cousin. Harry would have taken him for a Frenchman, and he was, in very
truth, largely of French blood. His black eyes and hair, his swarthy
complexion, gleaming white teeth and quick, volatile manner showed a
descendant of France who had come from the ancient soil by way of Hayti,
and the great negro rebellion to the coast of South Carolina. He seemed
strange and foreign to Harry, and yet he liked him.