Author: Marah Ellis Ryan
Category: Western
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CHAPTER XVI.
The warm summer moon wheeled up that evening through the dusk, odorouswith the wild luxuriance of wood and swamp growths. A carriage rolledalong the highway between stretches of rice lands and avenues ofpines.
In the west red and yellow showed where the path of the sun had beenand against it was outlined the gables of an imposing structure, darkagainst the sky.
"We are again close to the Salkahatchie," said Mrs. McVeigh, pointingwhere the trees marked its course, "and across there--see that roof,Marquise?--that is Loringwood. If the folks had got across fromCharleston we would stop there long enough to rest and have a bit ofsupper. But the road winds so that the distance is longer than itlooks, and we are too near home to stop on such an uncertainty.Gertrude's note from Charleston telling of their safe arrival couldsay nothing definite of their home coming."
"That, no doubt, depends on the invalid relative," suggested herguest; "the place looks very beautiful in this dim light; the cedarsalong the road there are magnificent."
"I have heard they are nearly two hundred years old. Years ago it wasthe great show place of the country, but two generations of veryextravagant sportsmen did much to diminish its wealth--generous,reckless and charming men--but they planted mortgages side by sidewith their rice fields. Those encumbrances have, I fancy, preventedGertrude from being as fond of the place as most girls would be of sofine an ancestral home."
"Possibly she lacks the gamester blood of her forefathers and can haveno patience with their lack of the commercial instinct."
"I really do believe that is just it," said Mrs. McVeigh. "I never hadthought of it in that way myself, but Gertrude certainly is not at alllike the Lorings; she is entirely of her mother's people, and they arecredited with possessing a great deal of the commercial instinct. Ican't fancy a Masterson gambling away a penny. They are much moresensible; they invest."
The cedar avenues had been left a mile behind, and they had enteredagain the pine woods where even the moon's full radiance could onlyscatter slender lances of light. The Marquise leaned back withhalf-shut slumberous eyes, and confessed she was pleased that it wouldbe later, instead of this evening, that she would have the pleasure ofmeeting the master and mistress of Loringwood--the drive through thegreat stretches of pine had acted as a soporific; no society for thenight so welcome as King Morpheus.
The third woman in the carriage silently adjusted a cushion back ofMadame's head. "Thank you, Louise," she said, yawning a little. "Yousee how effectually I have been mastered by the much remarked languorof the South. It is delightfully restful. I cannot imagine any oneever being in a hurry in this land."
Mrs. McVeigh smiled and pointed across the field, where some men werejust then running after a couple of dogs who barked vociferously inshort, quick yelps, bespeaking a hot trail before them.
"There is a living contradiction of your idea," she said; "theSoutherners are intensity personified when the game is worth it; thegame may be a fox chase or a flirtation, a love affair or a duel, andour men require no urging for any of those pursuits."
They were quite close to the men now, and the Marquise declared theywere a perfect addition to the scene of moonlit savannas backed by themasses of wood now near, now far, across the levels. Two of them hadreached the road when the carriage wheels attracted attention from thedogs, and they halted, curious, questioning.
"Why, it's our Pluto!" exclaimed Mrs. McVeigh; "stop the carriage.Pluto, what in the world are you doing here?"
Pluto came forward smiling, pleased.
"Welcome home, Mrs. McVeigh. I'se jest over Loringwood on errend withyo' all letters to Miss Lena an' Miss Sajane. Letters was stopped longtime on the road someway; yo' all get here soon most as they did.Judge Clarkson--he aimen' to go meet yo' at Savannah--start in themawning at daybreak. He reckoned yo' all jest wait there till some onego fo' escort."
"Evilena is at Loringwood, you say? Then Miss Loring and her unclehave got over from Charleston?"
"Yes, indeedy!--long time back, more'n a week now since they come.Why, how come you not hear?--they done sent yo' word; I _know_ MissLena wrote you, 'cause she said so. Yes'm, the folks is back, an' MissSajane an' Judge over there this minute; reckon they'll feel mightysorry yo' all passed the gate."
"Oh, but the letter never reached me. I had no idea they were home,and it is too far to go back I suppose? How far are we from the housenow?"
"Only 'bout a mile straight 'cross fields like we come after that'possum, but it's a good three miles by the road."
"Well, you present my compliments and explain the situation to MissLoring and the Judge. We will drive on to the Terrace. Say I hope tosee them all soon as they can come. Evilena can come with you in themorning. Tell Miss Gertrude I shall drive over soon as I am rested alittle--and Mr. Loring, is he better?"
"Heap better--so Miss Gertrude and the doctor say. He walks roun'some. Miss Gertrude she mightily taken with Dr. Delaven's cure--shesays he jest saved Mahs Loring's life over there in France."
"Dr. Delaven!" uttered the voice of the Marquise, in soft surprise--"_our_Dr. Delaven?" and as she spoke her hand stole out and touched that ofthe handsome serving woman she called Louise; "is he also a travellerseeking adventure in your South?"
"Did I not tell you?" asked Mrs. McVeigh. "I meant to. Gertrude's notementioned that her uncle was under the care of our friend, the youngmedical student, so you will hear the very latest of your belovedParis."
"Charming! It is to be hoped he will visit us soon. This littlewoman"--and she nodded towards Louise--"must be treated forhomesickness; you observe her depression since we left the cities? Dr.Delaven will be an admirable cure for that."
"Your Louise will perhaps cure herself when she sees a home again,"remarked Mrs. McVeigh; "it is life in a carriage she has perhaps growntired of."
"Madame is pleased to tease me as people tease children for beingafraid in the dark," explained Louise. "I am not afraid, but thesilence does give one a chill. I shall be glad to reach the door ofyour house."
"And we must hasten. Remember all the messages, Pluto; bring your MissLena tomorrow and any of the others who will come."
"I remember, sure. Glad I was first to see yo' all back--good night."
The other colored men in the background had lost all interest in the'possum hunt, and were intent listeners to the conversation. OldNelse, who had kept up to the rest with much difficulty, now pushedhimself forward for a nearer look into the carriage. Mrs. McVeigh didnot notice him. But he startled the Marquise as he thrust his whitebushy head and aged face over the wheel just as they were starting,and the woman Louise drew back with a gasp of actual fear.
"What a stare he gave us!" she said, as they rolled away from thegroup by the roadside. "That old man had eyes like augers, and heseemed to look through me--may I ask if he, also, is of yourplantation, Madame?"
"Indeed, he is not," was Mrs. McVeigh's reassuring answer. "But he didnot really mean to be impertinent; just some childish old 'uncle' whois allowed special privileges, I suppose. No; you won't see any onelike that at the Terrace. I can't think who it could be unless it isNelse, an old free man of Loring's; and Nelse used to have bettermanners than that, but he is very old--nearly ninety, they say. Idon't imagine he knows his own age exactly--few of the older onesdo."
Pluto caught the old man by the shoulder and fairly lifted him out ofthe road as the carriage started.
"What the matter with yo', anyway, a pitchen' yo'self 'gainst thewheel that-a-way?" he demanded. "Yo' ain't boun' and sot to get runover, are yo'?"
Some of the other men laughed, but Nelse gripped Pluto's hand asthough in need of the support.
"Fo' God!--thought I seen a ghost, that minute," he gasped, as theother men started after the dogs again; "the ghost of a woman whatain't dead yet--the ghost o' Retta."
"Yo' plum crazy, ole man," said Pluto, disdainfully. "How the ghost o'that Marg'ret get in my mistress carriage, I like to know?--'specialas the woman's as live as any of us.
Yo' gone 'stracted with all thetalken' 'bout that Marg'ret's story. Now, _I_ ain't seen a mite oflikeness to her in that carriage at all, I ain't."
"That 'cause yo' ain't nevah see Retta as she used to be. I tell yo'if her chile Rhoda alive at all I go bail she the very likeness o'that woman. My king! but she done scairt me."
"Don't yo' go talk such notions to any other person," suggested Pluto."Yo' get yo'self in trouble when yo' go tellen' how Mrs. McVeigh'scompany look like a nigger, yo' mind! Why, that lady the highest kindo' quality--most a queen where she comes from. How yo' reckon Mrs.McVeigh like to hear such talk?"
"Might'nt a' been the highest quality one I meant," protested Nelse,strong in the impression he had received; "it wa' the othah one,then--the one in a black dress."
All three occupants of the carriage had worn dark clothes, in thenight all had looked black. Nelse had only observed one closely; butPluto saw a chance of frightening the old man out of a subject ofgossip so derogatory to the dignity of the Terrace folks, and he didnot hesitate to use it.
"What other one yo' talken' 'bout?" he demanded, stopping short, "myMistress McVeigh?"
"Naw!--think me a bawn fool--you? I mean the _otha_ one--the numberthree lady."
"This here moonlight sure 'nough make you see double, ole man," saidPluto, with a chuckle. "Yo' better paddle yo'self back to your owncabin again 'stead o' hunten' ghost women 'round Lorin'wood, 'causethere wan't only two ladies in that carriage--two _live_ ladies," headded, meaningly, "an' one o' them was my mistress."
"Fo' Gawd's sake!"
The old man appeared absolutely paralyzed by the statement. His eyesfairly bulged from their sockets. He opened his lips again, but nosound came; a grin of horror was the only describable expression onhis face. All the superstition in his blood responded to Pluto'ssuggestion, and when he finally spoke it was in a ghostly whisper.
"I--I done been a looken' for it," he gasped, "take me home--yo'! It'sa sure 'nough sign! Last night ole whippo'will flopped ovah my head.Three nights runnen' a hoot owl hooted 'fore my cabin. An' now theghost of a woman what ain't dead yet, sot there an' stare at me! Iain't entered fo' no mo' races in this heah worl', boy; I done covahthe track fo' las' time; I gwine pass undah the line at the jedgestan', I tell yo'. I got my las' warnen'--I gwine home!"