CHAPTER XXXII.
Dear Old Ess again.
Let us visit once more the room from which Mr. Walters and his friends made
so brave a defence. There is but little in its present appearance to remind
one of that eventful night,--no reminiscences of that desperate attack,
save the bullet-hole in the ceiling, which Mr. Walters declares shall
remain unfilled as an evidence of the marked attention he has received at
the hands of his fellow-citizens.
There are several noticeable additions to the furniture of the apartment;
amongst them an elegantly-carved work-stand, upon which some unfinished
articles of children's apparel are lying; a capacious rocking-chair, and
grand piano.
Then opposite to the portrait of Toussaint is suspended another picture,
which no doubt holds a higher position in the regard of the owner of the
mansion than the African warrior aforesaid. It is a likeness of the lady
who is sitting at the window,--Mrs. Esther Walters, _nee_ Ellis. The brown
baby in the picture is the little girl at her side,--the elder sister of
the other brown baby who is doing its best to pull from its mother's lap
the doll's dress upon which she is sewing. Yes, that is "dear old Ess," as
Charlie calls her yet, though why he will persist in applying the adjective
we are at a loss to determine.
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