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Two entire days passed without Pluto’s return. There was some delay, owing to the absence of the overseer from the Larue estate; then, Zekal was ailing, and that delayed him until sundown of the second day, when he took the child in his arms––his own child now––and with its scanty wardrobe, and a few sundry articles of Rose’s, all saved religiously by an old “aunty,” who had nursed her––he started homeward on his long night tramp, so happy he scarce felt the weight of the boy in his arms, or that of the bundle fastened with a rope across his shoulders. He had his boy, and the boy was free! and when he thought of the stranger who had wrought this miracle his heart swelled with gratitude and the tears blinded him as he tramped homeward through the darkness.
The first faint color of dawn was showing in the east when he walked into Dilsey’s cook-house and showed the child asleep in his arms.
What a commotion! as the other house servants mustered in, sleepily, and straightway were startled very wide awake indeed, and each insisted on feeling the weight of the newcomer, just, Dilsey said, as if there never was a child seen on that plantation before. And all had cures for the “brashy” spell the little chap had been afflicted by, and which seemed frightened away entirely, as he looked about him with eyes like black beads. All the new faces, and the petting, were a revelation to Zekal.
Dilsey put up with it till everything else seemed at a standstill in the morning’s work, when she scattered the young folks right and left to their several duties, got Pluto an excellent breakfast, and gave the child in charge of one of the mothers in the quarters till “mist’ess” settled about him.
“Yo’ better take his little duds, too, Lucy,” suggested Pluto, as the boy was toddling away with her, contentedly,246rich in the possession of two little fists full of sweet things; “they’re tied up in that bandana––not the blue one! That blue one got some o’ his mammy’s things I gwine look over; maybe might be something make him shirts or aprons, an’ if there is a clean dress in that poke I––I like to have it put on ’im ’fore she sees him––Madame Caron, an’, an’ Mist’ess, o’ course! I like her to see he’s worth while.”
Then he asked questions about what all had been done in his absence, and learned there had been company coming and going so much Mahs Loring had his meals in his own room, “’cause o’ the clatter they made.” Margeret had been over at the Pines with Miss Loring to see about the work already commenced there, and Madame Caron and Miss Lena and Dr. Delaven just amused themselves.
He learned that the mail had been detained and no one had gone for it, and, tired though he was, started at once. He had noticed Madame Caron’s mail was of daily importance, and it should not be neglected by him even if company did make the others forgetful.
He was especially pleased that he had gone, when the postmaster handed over to him, besides several other letters and papers, a large, important-looking envelope for the Marquise de Caron––a title difficult for Pluto to spell; though he recognized it at sight.
The lady herself was on the veranda, in riding garb, when he presented himself, and she smiled as she caught sight of that special envelope among the rest.
“Margeret tells me you brought back the boy,” she said, glancing up, after peering in the envelope and ascertaining its contents, “and, Pluto, you paid me for Zekal when you brought this letter to me––so the balance is even.”
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Pluto made no comment––only shook his head and smiled. He could not comprehend how any letter, even a big one, could balance Zekal.
She retired to her room to examine the other letters, while Pluto placed the mail for the rest at their several places on the breakfast table.
Judithe unfolded the large enclosure and gave a sigh of utter content as her eyes rested on the words there. They conveyed to the Marquise de Caron, of France, an estate in South Carolina outlined and described and known as Loringwood. The house was sold furnished as it stood, and there followed an inventory of contents, excepting only family china and portraits.
“Not such an unlucky journey, after all, despite the coffins in the tea cups,” and she smiled at the fearful fancies of Louise, as she laid the paper aside; for the time it had made her forget there were other things equally important.
There was another letter, without signature. It said: “McVeigh is in Charleston, detained by official matters. Pierson leaves with particulars. Mail too irregular to be reliable. Your latest word from Columbia most valuable; we transmitted it as you suggested. Your location fortunate. The Powers at W. delighted with your success, but doubtful of your safety––unhealthy climate except for the natives! Report emancipation will be proclaimed, but nothing definite heard yet.”
She removed her habit and joined the rest at the breakfast table, clad in the daintiest of pink morning gowns, and listened with pleased surprise to Mrs. McVeigh’s information that her son, the Colonel, might be expected at any time. They had passed the blockade successfully, reached Charleston two nights before; were detained by official matters, and hoped, surely, to reach home within twenty-four hours after248the letter. His stay, however, would have to be brief, as he must move north at once with his regiment.
And in the midst of the delight, Judithe created a sensation by remarking:
“Well, my good people, I am not going to allow the Colonel all the surprise. I have had one of my own this morning, and I can scarcely wait to share it with you. It is the most astonishing thing!” and she glanced around at the expectant faces.
“If it’s of interest to you, it will be the wide world’s worth to us,” affirmed Delaven, with exaggerated show of devotion, at which she laughed happily, and turned to her hostess.
“You remember I informed you in Mobile I meant to sell my Orleans property, as I would not occupy it under existing rule;” to which explanation Matthew Loring actually beamed commendation, “well, I left it in the hands of my business man with orders to invest the money from the sale in some interior plantations not under Federal control. I wanted a house furnished, colonial by choice––some historical mansion preferred. The particular reason for this is, I have no relatives, no children to provide for, and the fancy has come to me for endowing some educational institution in your land, and for such purpose a mansion such as I suggested would, in all ways be preferable. Well, they forwarded me a list of properties. I sent them back unread lest I should covet them all, for they all would cost so little! I repeated to them the description Madame McVeigh had given me of your ancestral home, my dear sir, and told them to secure me a property possessing just such advantages as yours does––near enough to the coast for yachting, and far enough from cities to be out of social chains, except the golden one of friendship,” she added, letting her eyes rest249graciously on her listeners. “Well, can you surmise the result of that order?”
Each looked at the other in wonder; her smile told half the truth.
“I am afraid to put my surmise in words,” confessed Mrs. McVeigh, “for fear of disappointment.”
“I’m not!” and Evilena flourished her napkin to emphasize her delight, “its Loringwood! Oh, oh, Madame Caron, you’ve bought Loringwood!”
Margeret was entering the room with a small tray containing something for Mr. Loring, whose meals she prepared personally. Delaven, who was facing her, saw her grow ashen, and her eyes closed as though struck a physical blow; a glass from the tray shivered on the floor, as he sprang up and saved her from falling.
“What ails you, Margeret?” asked Gertrude, with the ring of the silver sounding through her tones. “There––she is all right again, Dr. Delaven. Don’t come into the dining room in future unless you feel quite well. Uncle can’t endure crashes, or nervous people, about him.”
“I know; I beg pardon, Miss Gertrude, Mistress McVeigh,” and Margeret’s manner was above reproach in its respectful humility, though Delaven observed that the firm lips were white; “the kitchen was very warm. I––I was faint for a minute.”
“Never mind about the glass, Caroline will pick it up,” said Mrs. McVeigh, kindly; “you go lay down awhile, it is very warm in the kitchen. Dilsey always will have a tremendous fire, even to fry an egg on; go along now––go rest where it’s cool.”
Margeret bent her head in mute acknowledgment of the kindness, and passed out of the room. Mr. Loring had250pushed his plate away with an impatient frown, signifying that breakfast was over for him, any way.
Delaven, noticing his silence and the grim expression on his face, wondered if he, too, was doubtful of that excuse uttered by the woman. The kitchen, no doubt, was warm, but he had seen her face as she heard Evilena’s delighted exclamation; it was the certainty that Loringwood was actually sold––Loringwood, and that grave under the pines? Possibly she had fostered hope that it might not be yet––not for a long time, and the suddenness of it had been like a physical shock to the frail, devoted woman. He had reasoned it out like that, and his warm, Irish heart ached for her as she left the room, and, glancing about the table, he concluded that only Matthew Loring and himself suspected the truth, or knew the real reason of her emotion, though the eyes of the Marquise did show a certain frank questioning as they met his own.
“Margeret’s fit just frightened the plantation away for a minute,” resumed Evilena, “but do own up, Madame Caron, is it Loringwood?”
“Yes,” assented Judithe, “the letter from my lawyer, this morning, informs me it is really Loringwood.”
“I am very much pleased to hear it, Madame,” and Matthew Loring’s tone was unusually hearty. “Since we part with it at all, I am pleased that no scrub stock gets possession. The place is perfectly adapted to the use you have planned, and instead of falling into neglect, the old home will become a monument to progress.”
“So I hope,” replied Judithe, with a subtle light, as of stars, in the depths of her eyes; “I am especially delighted to find that the old furnishings remain; it would be difficult for me to collect articles so in keeping with the entire scheme of251arrangement, and it would make a discord to introduce new things from the shops.”
“You will find no discords ofthatsort at Loringwood,” said Gertrude, speaking for the first time; “and, I hope, not many of any kind. Many of the heavy, massive old things I disliked to part with, but they would be out of place at the Pines, or, in fact, in any house less spacious. Like uncle, I am pleased it goes into the keeping of one who appreciates the artistic fitness of the old-fashioned furnishings.”
“Which she has never seen yet,” supplemented Evilena, as Judithe received this not very cordial compliment with a little bow and a brilliant smile.
“We will remedy that just as soon as we can secure an invitation from the present lady of the manor,” she said, in mock confidence to Evilena, across the table, at which the rest laughed, and Mr. Loring declared that now she was the lady of the manor herself, and his one regret was that he and his niece were not there to make her first entrance a welcome one.
“That would certainly add to the pleasure of the visit,” and her smile was most gracious. “But even your wish to welcome me makes it all the more delightful. I shall remember it when I first enter the door.”
Gertrude made an effort to be cordial, but that it was an effort Mrs. McVeigh easily discerned, and when they were alone, she turned to her in wonder:
“What is it, dear? Are you displeased about the sale? I feel so responsible for it; but I fancied it would be just what you would want.”
“So it is, too; but––oh, I had no idea it could all be settled so quickly as this!”
“When people never hesitate to telegraph, even about trifles, and Judithe never does, they can have business affairs252moved very quickly,” explained Mrs. McVeigh; “but what possible reason have you for objecting to the settlement?”
“I don’t object, but––you will think me silly, perhaps––but, I am sorry it is out of our hands before Kenneth returns. I should like to have him go over the old place, just once, before strangers claim it.”
“Never mind, dear, the nearer you are to the Terrace the better that Kenneth will like it, and the Pines is a great improvement in that way.”
“Yes; still it was at Loringwood I first saw him. Do you remember? You folks had just moved here from Mobile; it was my tenth birthday, and I had a party. Kenneth was the beau of the whole affair, because he was a new-comer, and a ‘town boy,’ and, I remember, we compared ages and found that he was three months older than I, and for a long time he assumed superior airs in consequence,” and she smiled at the remembrance. “Well, Uncle Matthew is delighted, and I suppose I should be. It ends all our money troubles for awhile, any way. Now, what are you planning for Kenneth’s home coming? All the people will want to see him.”
“And so they shall. We certainly can depend on him for tomorrow night, and we will have a party. Pluto shall start with the invitations at once.”
And Pluto did, just as soon as he had brought Zekal around for an inspection, which proved so entirely satisfactory that Evilena threatened to adopt him right away. He should be her own especial boy soon as he was big enough to run errands, which statement appeared to make an impression on Zekal not anticipated, for he so delighted to gaze on the pretty young white lady who petted him, that he objected lustily to being removed from the light of her countenance; and Delaven gave him a coin and informed253him that he felt like himself, often. This remark, made in the presence of Madame Caron, who laughed, brought on a tilt at hostilities between himself and Miss Evilena, who declared he was mocking her, and trying to render her ridiculous in the eyes of the only foreigner she admired excessively! He endeavored to persuade her to extend the last by warbling “Sweet Evilena,” which she declared she could not endure to hear for three distinct reasons.
“Let’s hear them,” he suggested, continuing the low humming:
“Ten years have gone byAnd I have not one dollar;Evilena still livesIn that green grassy hollow.”
“There! what sort of man would he be, any way?” she demanded, “a man who couldn’t earn a dollar in ten years!”
“Arrah, now! and there’s many a one of us travels longer and finds less, and never gets a song made about him, either; so, that’s your first reason, is it?”
“And a very good one, too!” affirmed the practical damsel; “do you want to hear the second?”
“An’ it please your sovereign grace!”
“Well, it doesn’t, for you can’t sing it,” and she emphasized the statement by flaunting her garden hat at every word.
“Me, is it? Ah, now, listen to that! I can’t sing it, can’t I? Well, then, I’ll practice it all day and every day until you change your mind about that, my lady!”
“I shan’t; for I’ve heard it sung so much better––and by a boywho wore a uniform––and that’s the third reason.”
After that remark she walked up the steps very deliberately, and was very polite to him when they met an hour later, which politeness was the foundation for a feud lasting254forty-eight hours; she determined that his punishment should be nothinglessthan that; it would teach him not to make her a laughing stock again. He should find he had not an Irish girl to tease, and––and make love to––especially before other folks!
And to shorten the season of her displeasure, he evolved a plan promising to woo the dimples into her cheeks again, for, if nothing but a uniformed singer was acceptable to her, a uniformed singer she should have. For the sake of her bright eyes he was willing to humor all her reasonable fancies––and most of her unreasonable ones. The consequences of this particular one, however, were something he could not foresee.
CHAPTER XXII.
The O’Delaven, as he called himself when he was in an especially Irish mood, was Mistress McVeigh’s most devoted servant and helper in the preparations for the party. In fact, when Judge Clarkson rode over to pay his respects, a puzzled little frown persistently crept between his brows at the gallantry and assiduity displayed by this exile of Erin in carrying out the charming lady’s orders, to say nothing of the gayety, the almost presumption, with which he managed affairs to suit his own fancy when his hostess was not there to give personal attention; and the child Evilena was very nearly, if not quite ignored, or at any rate, was treated in a condescending manner almost parental in its character, and which he perceived was as little relished by the girl as by himself.
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He was most delighted, of course, to learn who was the purchaser of Loringwood––it was such an admirable transaction he felt everybody concerned was to be congratulated; even war news was forgotten for a space.
All the day passed and no Kenneth! His mother decided he would be there the following morning, and, with flags draped over walls, and all the preparations complete for his reception, she retired, weary and happy from the day’s labors.
Judithe eyed those flags with the same inscrutable smile sometimes given to Matthew Loring’s compliments. She pointed to them next morning, when Delaven and herself stood in the hall waiting for their horses. She had accepted him as cavalier for the time, and they were going for a ride in the cool of the morning before the others were stirring.
Margeret was in sight, however––Judithe wondered if sheeverslept––and she came to them with delicious coffee and crisp toast, and watched them as they rode away.
It was while sipping the steaming coffee the flags were noticed, and Judithe remarked: “Those emblems mean so much down here, yet I never hear you discuss them, or what they stand for. Your nation is one always in rebellion against its unsympathetic governess. I should think you would naturally tend towards the seceders here.”
“I do––towards several, individually,” and he looked at her over the rim of the cup with quizzical blue eyes. “But I find three factions here instead of two, and my people have been too long under the oppressor for me not to appreciate what freedom would mean to these serfs in the South, and how wildly they long for it. No; I like the Southerners better than the Northerners, because I know them better; but in the matter of sympathy, faith! I forget both the warring256factions and only think of Sambo and Sambo’s wife and children.”
Judithe raised her finger, as Margeret entered with the toast and quietly vanished.
“I was afraid she would hear you. I fancy they must feel sensitive over the situation; speak French, please. What was it the Judge was saying about emancipation last evening? I noticed the conversation was changed as Mr. Loring grew––well, excited.”
“Oh, the old story; rumors again that the Federal government mean to proclaim freedom for the blacks. But when it was done in two states by the local authorities, it was vetoed at Washington; so it is doubtful after all if it is true, there are so many rumors afloat. But if it is done there will be nothing vague about it. I fancy it will be said so good and loud that there will be a panic from ocean to ocean.”
“Insurrection?”
“No; the Judge is right; there is a peculiar condition of affairs here precluding the possibility of that unless in isolated instances, a certain personal sympathy between master and slave which a foreigner finds difficult of comprehension.”
“What about the runaways?” she asked, with a little air of check, “several of them have escaped the sympathetic bonds in that way; in fact, they tell me Mr. Loring, or his niece, has lately lost some very valuable live stock through that tendency.”
“Whisper now!––though I believe it is a very open secret in the community, the gentleman in question, my dear Marquise, is one of the isolated instances. If you are studying social institutions in this country you must make a note of that, and underline it with red ink. He is by no means the257typical Southerner. He is, however, a proof of the fact that it is a dangerous law which allows every one possessing wealth an almost unlimited power over scores of human beings. To be sure, he is mild as skim-milk these days of convalescence, but there are stories told of the use he made of power when he dared, that would warrant the whole pack taking to their heels if they had the courage. They are not stories for ladies’ ears, however, and I doubt if Miss Loring herself is aware of them. But in studying the country here, don’t forget that my patient is one in a thousand––better luck to the rest.”
“So!” and she arose, drawing on her glove slowly, and regarding him with a queer little smile; “youhavebeen giving thought to something besides the love songs of this new country? Your ideas are very interesting. I shall remember them, even without the red ink.”
Then they mounted the impatient horses and rode out in the pink flush of the morning––the only hours cool enough for the foreigners to exercise at that season. They were going no place in particular, but when the cross-country road was reached leading to Loringwood, she suddenly turned to him and proposed that he conduct her to her new purchase––introduce her to Loringwood.
“With all the pleasure in life,” he assented gaily, somewhat curious to see how she would like the “pig in a poke,” as he designated her business transaction.
When they reached the gate she dismounted and insisted on walking through the long avenue she had admired. He was going to lead the horses, but she said, “No, tie them to the posts there, they were both well behaved, tractable animals;” she could speak for her mount at any rate. Pluto had told her it was Col. McVeigh’s favorite, trained by himself.
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She wore a thin silken veil of palest grey circling her hat, covering her face, and the end fastened in fluffy loops on her bosom. Her habit was of cadet grey, with a military dash of braid on epaulettes and cuff; the entire costume was perfect in its harmonious lines, and admirably adapted to the girlish yet stately figure. Delaven, looking at her, thought that in all the glories of the Parisian days he had never seen la belle Marquise more delightful to the eye than on that oft-to-be-remembered September morning.
She was unusually silent as they walked along the avenue, but her eyes were busy and apparently pleased at the prospect before her, and when they reached the front of the house she halted, surveyed the whole place critically, from the lazy wash of the river landing to the great pillars of the veranda, and drew a little breath of content.
“Just what I expected,” she remarked, in reply to his question. “I hope the river is not too shallow. Can we go in? I should like to, but not as the owner, please. They need not know of the sale until the Lorings choose to tell them.”
Little Raquel had opened the door, very much pleased at their arrival. She informed them “Aunt Chloe laid up with some sort of misery, and Betsey, who was in the cook-house, she see them comen’ an’ she have some coffee for them right off,” and she was proceeding with other affairs of entertainment when Judithe interrupted:
“No coffee, nothing for me. Now, Doctor, if you want to show me the library; you know we must not linger, this is to be a busy day at the Terrace.”
They had gone through the lower rooms, of which she had little to say. He had shown her the dashing portrait of Marmeduke Loring and given her a suggestion of the character as heard from Nelse. He had shown her the pretty, seraphic portrait of Gertrude as a little child, and the fair,259handsome face of Tom Loring, as it looked down from the canvas with a smile for all the world in his genial eyes.
They had made no further progress when Raquel appeared upon the scene again with a request from Aunt Chloe, “Would Mahs Doctor come roun’ an’ tell her jest what ailed her most, she got so many cu’eous compercations.”
He followed to see what the complications were, and thus it happened that Judithe was left alone to look around her new possessions.
But she did not look far. After a brief glance about she returned to the last portrait, studying the frank, handsome face critically.
“And thou wert the man,” she murmured. “Why don’t such men bear faces to suit their deeds, that all people may avoid the evil of them? Fair, strong, and appealing!” she continued, enumerating the points of the picture, “and a frank, honest gaze, too; but the painter had probably been false in that, and idealized the face. Yet I have seen eyes that were as honest looking, cover a vile soul, so why not this one?”
The eyes that were as honest looking were the deep sea-blue eyes she had described once to Dumaresque, confessing with light mockery their witchcraft over her; she thanked God those days were over. She had now something more to dream over than sentimental fancies.
She heard the quick beat of horse hoofs coming up the avenue and stopping at the door; then, a man’s voice:
“Good morning, Jeff––any of our folks over from the Terrace?”
“Yes, sah; good mawn, sah; leastwise I jest saw Miss Gertrude go in; they all stayen’ ovah at Terrace; I reckon260she rode back for something. I reckon you find her in library; window’s open thah.”
The man’s voice replied from the hall, “All right,” and he opened the door.
“Good morning, little woman,” he said, cheerily, boyishly. “When I saw Hector at the gate with the side saddle I thought––”
What he thought was left unfinished. The slender figure in grey turned from the window, and throwing back the veil with one hand extended the other to him, with an amused smile at his mistake.
“Judithe!” He had crossed the room; he held her hand in both of his; he could not otherwise believe in the reality of her presence. In dreams he had seen her so often thus, with the smile and the light as of golden stars deep in the brown eyes.
“Welcome to Loringwood, Col. McVeigh,” she said, softly.
“Your welcome could make it the most delightful homecoming of my life,” he said, looking down at her, “if I dared be sure I was quite welcome to your presence.”
“I am your mother’s guest,” and she met his gaze with cordial frankness; “would that be so if––oh, yes, you may be very sure I am pleased to see you home again, and especially pleased to see you here.”
“You are? Judithe, I beg pardon,” as she raised her brows in slight question. “I am not accountable this morning, Marquise; with a little time to recover myself in, I may grow more rational. To find you here is as much a surprise as though I had met you alone at sea in an open boat.”
“Alone––at sea––in an open boat,” she repeated, with a curious inflection; “but you perceive, Col. McVeigh, the situation261is not at all like that. I am under my own roof tree, and a very substantial one it is,” with a comprehensive glance about the imposing apartment; “and you are the first guest I have welcomed here––I am much pleased that it happened so.” When he stared at this bit of information she continued: “I have just made purchase of the estate from your friends, the Lorings––this is my first visit to it, and you are my first caller. You perceive I am really your neighbor, Monsieur.”
His eyes were bent on her with mute question; it all seemed so incredible that she should come there at all––to his country, to his home. He had left France cursing her coquetry; he had, because of her, gone straight to the frontier on his return to America, and lived the life of camps ever since; he had fancied no woman would ever again hold the sway over him she had held for that one brief season. Yet the graciousness of her tone, the frank smile in her eyes, and the touch of her hand––the beautiful hand!––
Delaven came in, and there were more explanations; then, to the regret of Raquel and Betsey, they left for the Terrace without partaking of the specially prepared coffee. Col. McVeigh had ridden from the coast with a party of the state guard, who were going to the river fortifications. Seeing his own saddle horse at the gate he had let them go on to the Terrace without him, while he stopped, thinking to find his mother or sister there.
The new mistress of Loringwood listened with an interested expression to this little explanation, and no one would have thought there was any special motive in leaving the horse tied there on the only road he would be likely to come, or that his statement that he traveled with a party of military friends conveyed a distinct message to her of work to be done.
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She did not fail to notice that Col. McVeigh was a much handsomer man than the lieutenant had been. He appeared taller, heavier––a stalwart soldier, who had lost none of his impetuousness, and had even gained in self confidence, but for all that the light of boyhood was in his eyes as he looked at her, and she, well satisfied that it was so, rode happily to the Terrace beside him, only smiling when he pointed out a clump of beeches and said he never passed without thinking of the trees at Fontainbleau.
“And,” with a little mocking glance, “do the violets and forget-me-nots also grow among the bushes here?”
“Yes;” and he returned her mocking look with one so deliberate that her eyes dropped, “the forget-me-not is hardy in my land, you know; it lives always if encouraged.”
“Heavens!––will the man propose to me again before we reach the house or have breakfast?” she thought, and concluded it more wise to drop such dangerous topics. Until her expected messenger came she could not quite decide what was to be done or what methods employed.
“Forget-me-nots, is it?” queried Delaven, in strict confidence with himself; “oh, but you’ve been clever, the pair of you, to get so far as forget-me-nots, and no one the wiser;” then aloud he said, “I’ve an idea that the best beloved man on the plantation this day will be the one who announces your coming, Colonel; so if you’ll look after Madame la Marquise––”
And then he dashed ahead congratulating himself on the way he was helping the Colonel.
“It’s well to have a friend at court,” he decided, “and it’s myself may need all I can get––for pill boxes are a bad balance for plantations, Fitz; faith, they’ll be flung to the moon at first tilt.”
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The two left alone had three miles to go and seemed likely to make the journey in silence. She was a trifle dismayed at Delaven’s desertion, and could find no more light words. She attempted some questions concerning the blockade, but his replies showed his thoughts were elsewhere.
“It is no use,” he said, abruptly. “I have only forty-eight hours to remain; I may not see you again for a year, perhaps, never, for I go at once to the front. There is only one thought in my mind, and you know what it is.”
“To conquer the Yankees?” she hazarded.
“No, to conquer some pride or whim of the girl who confessed once that she loved me.”
“Take my advice, Monsieur,” she said with a cool little smile. “No doubt you have been fortunate enough to hear those words many times––I should think it quite probable,” and she let her eyes rest approvingly for a moment on his face; “but it is well to consider the girls who make those avowals before you place full credence on the statement––not that theyalwaysmean to deceive,” she amended, “but those three words have a most peculiar fascination for girlhood––they like to use them even when they do not comprehend the meaning.”
He shook his head as he looked at her.
“It is no use, Madame la Marquise,” he said, and the ardent eyes met her own and made her conscious of a sudden fear. “You reason it out very well––philosophy is one of your hobbies, isn’t it? I always detested women with hobbies––the strong-minded woman who reasons instead of feeling; and now you are revenging the whole army of them by making me feel beyond reason. But you shan’t evade me by such tactics. Do you remember what your last spoken words to me were, three years ago?”
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Her face paled a little, she lifted the bridle to urge her horse onward, but he laid his hand on her wrist.
“No, pardon me, but I must speak to you––day and night I have thought of them, and now that you are here––oh, I know you sent me away––that is, you hid from me; and why, Judithe? I believe on my soul it was because you meant those words when you said: ‘I love you now, and from the first moment you ever looked at me!’ I told myself at first, when I left France, that it was all falsehood, coquetry––but I could not keep that belief, for the words rang too true––you thought you were going over that bank to death, and all your heart was in your voice and your eyes. That moment has come back to me a thousand times since; has been with me in the thick of battle, singing through my ears as the bullets whistled past. ‘I love you now, and from the first moment you ever looked at me.’ It is no use to pretend you did not mean those words then. I know in my heart you did. You were bound in some way, no doubt, and fancied you had no right to say them. The announcement of your engagement suggested that. But you are free now, or you would not be here, and I must be heard.”
“Be satisfied then,” she replied, indifferently, though her hand trembled on the bridle, “you perceive you have, thanks to your stronger arm, an audience of one.”
“You are angry at my presumption––angry at the advantage I have taken of the situation?” he asked. “I grant you are right; but remember, it is now or perhaps never with me; and it is the presumption of love––a woman should forgive that.”
“They usually do, Monsieur,” she replied, with a little shrug and glance of amusement. For one bewildered instant she had lost control of herself, and had only the desire265to flee; but it was all over now, she remembered another point to be made in the game––something to postpone the finale until she had seen Pierson.
“It is not just to me,” he said, meeting her mocking glance with one that was steadfast and determined. “However your sentiments have changed, I know you cared for me that day, as I have cared for you ever since, and now that you have come here––to my own country, to my mother’s house, I surely may ask this one question: Why did you accept the love I offered, and then toss it away almost in the same breath?”
“I may reply by another question,” she said, coolly. “What right had you to make any offers of love to me at any time? What right have you now?”
“What right?”
“Yes; does your betrothed approve? Is that another of the free institutions in your land of liberties?”
“What do you mean?––my betrothed?”
“Your betrothed,” she said, and nodded her head with that same cool little smile. “I heard her name that evening of the drive you remember so well; our friend, the Countess Helene, mentioned it to me––possibly for fear my very susceptible heart might be won by your protection of us,” and she glanced at him again, mockingly. “You had forgotten to mention it to me, but it really does not matter, I have learned since then that gentlemen absolutely cannot go around reciting the lists of former conquests––it is too apt to prevent the acquisition of new ones. I did not realize it then––there were so many things I could not realize; and I felt piqued at your silence; but,” with an expressive little gesture and a bright smile, “I am no longer so. I come to your home; I clasp hands with you; I meet your bride-elect, Miss Loring––she is remarkably pretty, Monsieur,266and I am quite prepared to dance at your wedding; therefore––”
“Marquise, on my honor as a man,” he did not see the scornful light in her eyes as he spoke of his honor; “there has never been a word of love between Gertrude Loring and myself; it is nothing but family gossip dating from the time we were children, and encouraged by her uncle for reasons entirely financial. We have both ignored it. We are all fond of her, and I believe my mother at one time did hope it would be so arranged, but I hope she wins a better fellow than myself; she cares no more for me than I for her.”
They had turned into the Terrace grounds. Evilena was running out to meet them. She was so close now she could hear what he said if it were not for her own swiftness.
“Judithe! One word, a look; you believe me?”
She said nothing, but she did flash one meaning glance at him, and then his sister was at the stirrup and he swung out of the saddle to kiss her.
CHAPTER XXIII.
“Of course we are anxious to hear all you dare tell us about the success of your mission over there,” said his mother, an hour later, when the riders had done justice to a delightful breakfast. “Are all the arrangements made by our people entirely satisfactory?”
“Entirely, mother. This is the twenty-second of September, isn’t it? Well, it is an open secret now. The vessel secured goes into commission today, and will be called the Alabama.”
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“Hurrah for the Alabama!” cried Evilena, who was leaning on the back of her brother’s chair. He put his arm around her and turned to Judithe.
“Have you become acquainted with the patriotic ardor of my little sister?” he asked. “I assure you we have to fight these days if we want to keep the affections of our Southern girls.”
Gertrude smiled across the table at him.
“I can’t fancy you having to fight very hard battles along that line, Monsieur,” replied Judithe, in the cool, half mocking tone she had adopted for all questions of sentiment with him; and Gertrude, who saw the look exchanged between them, arose from the table.
“Uncle Matthew asked to see you when you have time, Kenneth.”
“Thanks, yes; I’ll go directly. Mother, why not ask the boys of the guard to stop over for your party? They are of Phil Masterson’s company––all Carolina men.”
“Of course, I shall invite them personally,” and she left the room to speak to the men who were just finishing breakfast under an arbor, and congratulating themselves on the good luck of being travelling companions of Colonel McVeigh.
Evilena waltzed around the table in her delight at the entire arrangement; boys in uniform; the longed-for additions to the festivities, and they would have to be a formidable lot if she could not find one of their number worth dancing with; she would show Dr. Delaven that other men did not think her only a baby to be teased!
“Now, Madame Caron, we can show you a regular plantation jubilee, for the darkies shall have a dance at the quarters. You’ll like that, won’t you?”
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“Anything that expresses the feminine homage to returning heroes,” replied Judithe, with a little bow of affected humility, at which Colonel McVeigh laughed as he returned it. She passed out of the door with his sister and he stood looking after her, puzzled, yet with hope in his eyes. His impetuousness in plunging into the very heart of the question at once had, at any rate, not angered her, which was a great point gained. He muttered an oath when he realized that but for the Countess Biron’s gossip they might never have been separated, for she did love him then––he knew it. Even today, when she would have run away from him again, she did not denythat! Forty-eight hours in which to win her––and his smile as he watched her disappear had a certain grim determination in it. He meant to do it. She had grown white when he quoted to her her own never forgotten words. Well, she should say them to him again! The hope of it sent the blood leaping to his heart, and he turned away with a quick sigh.
Gertrude, who had only stepped out on the veranda when she left the table, and stood still by the open glass door, saw the lingering, intense gaze with which he followed the woman she instinctively disliked––the woman who was now mistress of Loringwood, and had made the purchase as carelessly as though it were a new ring to wear on her white hand––a new toy to amuse herself with in a new country; the woman who threw money away on whims, had the manner of a princess, and who had aroused in Gertrude Loring the first envy or jealousy she had ever been conscious of in her pleasant, well-ordered life. From the announcement that Loringwood had passed into the stranger’s possession her heart had felt like lead in her bosom. She could not have explained why––it was more a presentiment of evil than aught else, and she thought she knew the reason of it269when she saw that look in Kenneth McVeigh’s eyes––a look she had never seen there before.
And the woman who had caused it all was walking the floor of her own apartment in a fever of impatience. If the man she expected would only come––then she would have work to do––definite plans to follow; now all was so vague, and those soldiers staying over, was it only a chance invitation, or was there a hidden purpose in that retained guard? Her messenger should have arrived within an hour of Colonel McVeigh, and the hour was gone.
As she passed the mirror she caught sight of her anxious face in it, and halted, staring at the reflection critically.
“You are turning coward!” she said, between her closed teeth. “You are afraid to be left to yourself an hour longer––afraid because of this man’s voice and the touch of his hand. Aren’t you proud of yourself––you! He is the beast whose name you hated for years––the man for whom that poor runaway was taught the graces and accomplishments of white women––in this house you heard Matthew Loring mention the price of her and the portion to be forfeited to Kenneth McVeigh because the girl was not to be found. Do you forget that? Do you think I shall let you forget it? I shan’t. You are to do the work you came here to do. You are to have no other interest in the people of this house.”
She continued her nervous walk back and forth across the room. She put aside the grey habit and donned a soft, pretty house-gown of the same color. Her hands were trembling. She clasped and unclasped them with a despairing gesture.
“It is not love,” she whispered, as though in wild argument against the fear of it. “Not love––some curse in the blood––that is what it is. And to think that after three270years––three years!––it all comes back like this. Oh, you fool, you fool! Love,” she continued, in more clear, reasoning tones, speaking aloud slowly as though to impress it on her mind, as a child will repeat a lesson to be learned; “love must be based on respect––what respect can you have for this buyer of young girls?––this ardent-eyed animal who has the good fortune, to be classed as a gentleman. Love in a woman’s heart should be her religion; what religion could be centered on so vile a creature? To look up to such a man, how low a woman would have to sink.”
Evilena knocked at the door to show some little gift brought by her brother from across the ocean, and Judithe turned to her feverishly, glad of some companionship to drive away her dread and suspense until the expected messenger arrived––the minutes were as long as hours, now!
Colonel McVeigh had scarcely more than greeted Loring when Pluto announced Captain Masterson and some other gentleman. Evilena saw them coming from the window and reported there were two soldiers besides Captain Masterson, and a man in blue clothes, who aroused her curiosity mightily. They were out of range before Judithe reached the window, but her heart almost stopped beating for an instant; the man she expected wore a blue yachting suit, and this sudden gathering of soldiery at the Terrace?
Colonel McVeigh greeted Masterson cordially and turned to the others. Two were men in Confederate uniform, just outside the door, and the third was a tall man in the uniform of a Federal Captain. His left wrist was bandaged. He was smiling slightly as McVeigh’s glance became one of doubt for an instant, and then brightened into unmistakable recognition.