Come to luncheon at one, and you shall meet my other
guests."
Harry sat down on a little wooden bench beneath a magnolia. Here in the
garden the odor of grass and foliage was keen, and thrillingly sweet.
This was the South, the real South, and its warm passions leaped up in
his blood. Much of the talk that he had been hearing recently from
those older than he passed through his mind. The Southern states did
have a right to go if they chose, and they were being attacked because
their prominence aroused jealousy. Slavery was a side issue, a mere
pretext. If it were not convenient to hand, some other excuse would be
used. Here in Charleston, the first home of secession, among people who
were charming in manner and kind, the feeling was very strong upon him.
He left the house after luncheon, and, following Madame Delaunay's
instructions, came very quickly to St. Andrew's hall in Broad street,
where five days before, the Legislature of South Carolina, after
adjourning from Columbia, had passed the ordinance of secession.
Two soldiers in the Palmetto uniform were on guard, but they quickly let
him pass when he showed his letters to Senator Yancey. Inside, a young
man, a boy, in fact, not more than a year older than himself, met him.
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