TEMPLE BOW

In the morning I started for Temple Bow on horseback behind one of Mr.
Lowndes' negroes. Good Mrs. Lowndes had kissed me at parting, and tucked
into my pocket a parcel of sweetmeats. There had been a few grave
gentlemen to see me, and to their questions I had replied what I could.
But tell them of Mr. Temple I would not, save that he himself had told me
nothing. And Mr. Lowndes had presently put an end to their talk.

"The lad knows nothing, gentlemen," he had said, which was true.

"David," said he, when he bade me farewell, "I see that your father has
brought you up to fear God. Remember that all you see in this life is
not to be imitated."

And so I went off behind his negro. He was a merry lad, and despite the
great heat of the journey and my misgivings about Temple Bow, he made me
laugh. I was sad at crossing the ferry over the Ashley, through thinking
of my father, but I reflected that it could not be long now ere I saw him
again. In the middle of the day we stopped at a tavern. And at length,
in the abundant shade of evening, we came to a pair of great ornamental
gates set between brick pillars capped with white balls, and turned into
a drive. And presently, winding through the trees, we were in sight of a
long, brick mansion trimmed with white, and a velvet lawn before it all
flecked with shadows. In front of the portico was a saddled horse,
craning his long neck at two panting hounds stretched on the ground. A
negro boy in blue clutched the bridle. On the horse-block a gentleman in
white reclined. He wore shiny boots, and he held his hat in his hand,
and he was gazing up at a lady who stood on the steps above him.