"See," he said, with a smile, "they were handsome once. That one with
the ragged remnants of red velvet was my father's. Take a seat, my dear
Surry. I will sit in the other--it was my mother's."
Returning to the adjoining room, Mohun again reappeared, this time
bearing in his arms the broken remnants of a mahogany table, which he
heaped up in the great fireplace.
"This is all that remains of our old family dining-table," he said.
"Some Yankee or straggling soldier will probably use it for this
purpose--so I anticipate them!"
And, placing combustibles beneath the pile, Mohun had recourse to the
metallic match case which he always carried with him in order to read
dispatches, lit the fuel, and a blaze sprung up.
Next, he produced his cigar case, offered me an excellent Havana, which
I accepted, and a minute afterward we were leaning back in the great
chairs, smoking.
"An odd welcome, this," said Mohun, with his sad smile; "broken chairs,
old pictures, and a fire made of ruined furniture! But one thing we
have--an uninterrupted opportunity to converse. Let us talk, therefore,
or rather, I will at once tell you what I promised."
XIV.
"LORD OF HIMSELF, THAT HERITAGE OF WOE."
Mohun leaned back in his chair, reflected for a moment with evident
sadness, and then, with a deep sigh, said:--
"I am about to relate to you, my dear Surry, a history so singular,
that it is probable you will think I am indulging my fancy, in certain
portions of it.
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