Of his means, we knew absolutely nothing. It was said
that his wealth had been carried away by the civil war and that he was
living on a small but sufficient remainder, which was doubtless true.
Over his gray moustache there was a blue eye that sometimes looked as
it might belong to a boy of eighteen and sometimes had the weary look
of a man long acquainted with grief. His skin was as soft as a woman's
and often suffused with a faint blush which would have better become
a woman. He was the very spirit of gentleness to both men and women,
and it seemed hard to realize, looking at him, that, as we heard
afterwards, this man had been wounded and captured in a battle and set
apart to be executed in reprisal. We did not learn that from him, for
he never talked about himself, but from an old army comrade who met
him and was the only man that we boarders ever saw the Major familiar
with. Not that he was distant, but after a gentle smile of salutation
or recognition he never seemed anxious to converse, and like most men,
silence gave him an air of mystery. There were many solutions of the
mystery by the lady boarders, particularly by Mrs. Pointlace, a restless
little widow, who was never at peace unless she was in love with
somebody or somebody was in love with her.
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