One by one Valiant forced open the tall French windows, till the fading light lay softly over the austere dignity of the apartment. In that somber room, he knew, had had place whatever was most worthy in the lives of his forebears. The thought of generation upon generation had steeped it in human association.
Suddenly he lifted his eyes. Above the desk hung a life-size portrait of a man, in the high soft stock and velvet collar of half a century before. The right eye, strangely, had been cut from the canvas. He stood straight and tall, one hand holding an eager hound in leash, his face proud and florid, his single, cold, steel-blue eye staring down through its dusty curtain with a certain malicious arrogance, and his lips set in a sardonic curve that seemed about to sneer. It was for an instant as if the pictured figure confronted the young man who stood there, mutely challenging his entrance into that tomb-like and secret-keeping quiet; and he gazed back as fixedly, repelled by the craft of the face, yet subtly attracted. "I wonder who you were," he said. "You were cruel. Perhaps you were wicked. But you were strong, too."
He returned to the outer hall to find that the negro had carried in his trunk, and he bade him place it, with the portmanteau, in the room he had just left. Dusk was falling. The air was full of a faint far chirr of night insects, like an elfin serenade, and here and there among the trees pulsed the greenish-yellow spark of a firefly.
"Uncle Jefferson," said Valiant abruptly, "have you a family?"
"Cook!" The genial titter again captured his dusky escort. "When she got de _fixens_, Ah reck'n she de beaten'es cook in dis heah county."
"How much do you earn, driving that hack?"
Uncle Jefferson ruminated. "Well, suh, 'pens on de weddah. Mighty lucky sometimes dis yeah ef Ah kin pay de groc'ry man."
"How would you both like to live here with me for a while? She could cook and you could take care of me."
Uncle Jefferson's eyes seemed to turn inward with mingled surprise and introspection. He shifted from one foot to the other, swallowed difficultly several times, and said, "Ah ain' nebbah seed yo' befo', suh."
"Well, I haven't seen you either, have I?"
"Dat's de trufe, suh, 'deed et is! Hyuh, hyuh! Whut Ah means ter say is dat de ol' 'ooman kain' cook no fancy didoes like what dey eats up Norf. She kin jes' cook de Ferginey style."