Author: Marah Ellis Ryan
Category: Western
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CHAPTER XVII.
Pluto half carried the old man back to Loringwood, while the otherdarkies continued their 'possum hunt. Nelse said very little after hisavowal of the "sign" and its relation to his lease of life. He had anervous chill by the time they reached the house and Pluto almostrepented of his fiction. Finally he compromised with his conscience bypromising himself to own the truth if the frightened old fellow becameworse.
But nothing more alarming resulted than his decision to return at onceto his own cabin, and the further statement that he desired some onebe despatched at once for "that gal Cynthy," which was done accordingto his orders.
The women folk--old Chloe at their head--decided Uncle Nelse must bein some dangerous condition when he sent the command for Cynthia, whomhe had divorced fifty years before. The rumors reached Dr. Delaven,who made a visit to Nelse in the cabin where he was installedtemporarily, waiting for the boatmen who were delegated to row himhome, he himself declining to assist in navigation or any other thingrequiring physical exertion.
He was convinced his days were numbered, his earthly labors over, andhe showed abject terror when Margeret entered with a glass of bittersMrs. Nesbitt had prepared with the idea that the old man had caught achill in his endeavor to follow the dogs on the oppossum hunt.
"I told you all how it would be when I heard of him going," sheasserted, with all a prophet's satisfaction in a prophecy verified."Pluto had to just about tote him home--following the dogs at his age,the idea!"
But for all her disgust at his frivolity she sent the bitters, andDelaven could not comprehend his shrinking from the cup-bearer.
"Come--come, now! You're not at all sick, my man; what in the wideworld are you shamming for? Is it for the dram? Sure, you could havethat without all this commotion."
"I done had a vision, Mahs Doctor," he said, with impressivesolemnity. "My time gwine come, I tell you." He said no more untilMargeret left the room, when he pointed after her with nervousintensity. "It's that there woman I seen--the ghost o' that woman whatain't dead--the ghost o' her when she was young an' han'some--that'swhat I seen in the McVeigh carriage this night, plain as I see yo'face this minute. But no such _live_ woman wa' in that carriage, sah.Pluto, he couldn't see but two, an' _I_ saw three plain as I could seeone. Sure as yo' bawn it's a death sign, Mahs Doctor; my time donecome."
"Tut, tut!--such palaver. That would be the queerest way, entirely, toread the sign. Now, I should say it was Margeret the warning was for;why should the likeness of her come to hint of your death?"
Nelse did not reply at once. He was deep in thought--a nervous,fidgety season of thought--from which he finally emerged with a theoryevidently not of comfort to himself.
"I done been talken' too much," he whispered. "I talk on an' ontoday; I clar fo'got yo' a plum stranger to we all. I tell allsorts o' family things what maybe Mahs Duke not want tole. Italked 'bout that gal Retta most, so he done sent a ghost whatlook like Retta fo' a sign. Till day I die I gwine keep my mouthshut 'bout Mahs Duke's folks, I tell yo', an' I gwine straight homeout o' way o' temptations."
So oppressed was he with the idea of Mahs Duke's displeasure that hedetermined to do penance if need be, and commenced by refusing a coinDelaven offered him.
"No, sah; I don' dar take it," he said, solemnly, "an' I glad to giveyo' back that othar dollar to please Mahs Duke, only I done turned itinto a houn' dog what Ben sold me, and Chloe--she Ben's mammy--she gotit from him, a'ready, an' paid it out fo' a pair candlesticks she beengrudgen' ole M'ria a long time back, so I don' see how I evah gwineget it. But I ain't taken' no mo' chances, an' I ain't a risken' nomo' ghost signs. Jest as much obliged to yo' all," and he sighedregretfully, as Delaven repocketed the coin; "but I know when I gotenough o' ghosts."
Pluto had grace enough to be a trifle uneasy at the intensedespondency caused by his fiction in what he considered a good cause.The garrulity of old Nelse was verging on childishness. Pluto wasconvinced that despite the old man's wonderful memory of details inthe past, he was entirely irresponsible as to his accounts of thepresent, and he did not intend that the McVeigh family or any of theirvisitors should be the subject of his unreliable gossip. Pride offamily was by no means restricted to the whites. Revolutionary asPluto's sentiments were regarding slavery, his self esteem wasenhanced by the fact that since he was a bondman it was, at any rate,to a first-class family--regular quality folks, whose honor he woulddefend under any circumstances, whether bond or free.
His clumsily veiled queries about the probable result of Uncle Nelse'sattack aroused the suspicions of Delaven that the party of hunters hadfound themselves hampered by the presence of their aged visitor, whowas desirous of testing the ability of his new purchase, the hounddog, and that they had resorted to some ghost trick to get rid ofhim.
He could not surmise how the shade of Margeret had been made do dutyfor the occasion, her subdued, serious manner giving the denial to anypractical joke escapades.
But the news Pluto brought of Mrs. McVeigh's homecoming dwarfed allsuch episodes as a scared nigger who refused to go into details as tothe scare, and in his own words was "boun' an' sot" to keep his mouthshut in future about anything in the past which he ever had known andseen, or anything in his brief earthly future which he might know orsee. He even begged Delaven to forget immediately the numerous bits ofhistory he, Nelse, had repeated of the Loring family, and Delavencomforted him by declaring that all he could remember that minute wasthe horse race and he would put that out of his mind at once ifnecessary.
Nelse was not sure it was necessary to forget _that_, because itdidn't in any way reflect discredit on the family, and he didn't inreason see why his Mahs Duke should object to that story unless it wason account of the high-flier lady from Philadelphia what Mahs Duke wonaway from Mr. Jackson without any sort of trouble at all, and if MahsDuke was hovering around in the library when Miss Evilena and MahsDoctor listened to that story, Mahs Duke ought to know in his heart,if he had any sort of memory at all, that he, Nelse, had not told halfwhat he might have told about that Northern filly and Mahs Duke. Andtaking it all in all Nelse didn't see any reason why Delaven need putthat out of his remembrance--especially as it was mighty good runningfor two-year-olds.
Evilena had peeped in for a moment to say good-bye to their duskyHomer. But the call was very brief. All her thoughts were filled withthe folks at the Terrace, and dawn in the morning had been decided onfor the ten-mile row home, so anxious was she to greet her mother, andso lively was her interest in the wonderful foreigner whom Dr. Delavenhad described as "Beauty's self."
That lady had in the meantime arrived at the Terrace, partaken of asubstantial supper, and retired to her own apartments, leavingbehind her an impression on the colored folks of the household thatthe foreign guest was no one less than some latter day queen ofSheba. Never before had their eyes beheld a mistress who owned whiteservants, and the maid servant herself, so fine she wore silkstockings and a delaine dress, had her meals in her own room and wasso grand she wouldn't even talk like folks, but only spoke inFrench, except when she wanted something special, at which time shewould condescend to talk "United States" to the extent of a word ortwo. All this superiority in the maid--whom they were instructed tocall "Miss"--reflected added glory on the mistress, who, at the suppertable, had been heard say she preferred laying aside a title whilein America, and to be known simply as Madame Caron; and laughinglyconfessed to Mrs. McVeigh that the American Republic was in a fairway to win her from the French Empire, all of which was told at oncein the kitchen, where they were more convinced than ever thatroyalty had descended upon them. This fact did not tend to increasetheir usefulness in any capacity; they were so overcome by thegrandeur and the importance of each duty assigned to them that thewheels of domestic machinery at the Terrace that evening were fairlyclogged by the eagerness and the trepidation of the workers. Theyfiguratively--and sometimes literally--fell over each other toanticipate any call which might assure them entrance to thewonderful presence, and
were almost frightened dumb when they gotthere.
Mrs. McVeigh apologized for them and amused her guest with thereason:
"They have actually never seen a white servant in their lives, and areeaten up with curiosity over the very superior maid of yours, herintelligence places her so high above their ideas of servitors."
"Yes, she is intelligent," agreed the Marquise, "and much more thanher intelligence, I value her adaptability. As my housekeeper she wassimply perfect, but when my maid grew ill and I was about to travel,behold! the dignity of the housekeeper was laid aside, and with abewitching maid's cap and apron, and smile, she applied for the vacantposition and got it, of course."
"It was stupid of me not to offer you a maid," said Mrs. McVeigh,regretfully; "I did not understand. But I could not, of course, havegiven you any one so perfect as your Louise; she is a treasure."
"I shall probably have to get along with some one less perfect in thefuture," said the other, ruefully. "She was to have had my yachtrefurnished and some repairs made while I was here, and now that I amsafely located, may send her back to attend to it. She is worth anytwo men I could employ for such supervision, in fact, I trust manysuch things to her."
"Pray let her remain long enough to gain a pleasant impression ofplantation life," suggested Mrs. McVeigh, as they rose from the table."I fancied she was depressed by the monotony of the swamp lands, orelse made nervous by the group of black men around the carriage thereat Loringwood; they did look formidable, perhaps, to a stranger atnight, but are really the most kindly creatures."
Judithe de Caron had walked to the windows opening on the veranda andwas looking out across the lawn, light almost as day under the highmoon, a really lovely view, though both houses and grounds were on amore modest scale than those of Loringwood. They lacked the grandeursuggested by the century-old cedars she had observed along the Loringdrive. The Terrace was much more modern and, possibly, so much morecomfortable. It had in a superlative degree the delightful atmosphereof home, and although the stranger had been within its gates so shorta time, she was conscious of the wonder if in all her variedexperience she had ever been in so real a home before.
"How still it all is," remarked Mrs. McVeigh, joining her. "Tomorrow,when my little girl gets back, it will be less so; come out on theveranda and I can show you a glimpse of the river; you see, our placeis built on a natural terrace sloping to the Salkahatchie. It gives usa very good view."
"Charming! I can see that even in the night time."
"Three miles down the river is the Clarkson place; they are mostpleasant friends, and Miss Loring's place, The Pines, joins theTerrace grounds, so we are not so isolated as might appear at first;and fortunately for us our plantation is a favorite gathering placefor all of them."
"I can quite believe that. I have been here two--three hours, perhaps,and I know already why your friends would be only too happy to come.You make them a home from the moment they enter your door."
"You could not say anything more pleasing to my vanity, Marquise,"said her hostess, laughingly, and then checked herself at sight of anupraised finger. "Oh, I forgot--I do persist in the Marquise."
"Come, let us compromise," suggested her guest, "if Madame Caronsounds too new and strange in your ears, I have another name, Judithe;it may be more easily remembered."
"In Europe and England," she continued, "where there are so many royalpaupers, titles do not always mean what they are supposed to. I haveseen a Russian prince who was a hostler, an English lord who was anattendant in a gambling house, and an Italian count porter on arailway. Over here, where titles are rare, they make one conspicuous;I perceived that in New Orleans. I have no desire to be especiallyconspicuous. I only want to enjoy myself."
"You can't help people noticing you a great deal, with or without atitle," and Mrs. McVeigh smiled at her understandingly. "You cannothope to escape being distinguished, but you shall be whatever you likeat the Terrace."
They walked arm in arm the length of the veranda, chatting lightly ofParisian days and people until ten o'clock sounded from the tall clockin the library. Mrs. McVeigh counted the strokes and exclaimed at thelateness.
"I certainly am a poor enough hostess to weary you the first eveningwith chatter instead of sending you to rest, after such a drive," shesaid, in self accusation. "But you are such a temptation--Judithe."
They both laughed at her slight hesitation over the first attempt atthe name.
"Never mind; you will get used to it in time," promised the Marquise,"I am glad you call me 'Judithe.'"
Then they said good night; she acknowledged she did feel sleepy--alittle--though she had forgotten it until the clock struck.
Mrs. McVeigh left her at the door and went on down the hall to her ownapartment--a little regretful lest Judithe should be over wearied bythe journey and the evening's gossip.
But she really looked a very alert, wide-awake young lady as shedivested herself of the dark green travelling dress and slipped intothe luxurious lounging robe Mademoiselle Louise held ready.
Her brows were bent in a frown of perplexity very different from thegay smile with which she had parted from her hostess. She glanced ather attendant and read there anxiety, even distress.
"Courage, Louise," she said, cheerily; "all is not lost that's indanger. Horrors! What a long face! Look at yourself in the mirror. Ihave not seen such a mournful countenance since the taking of NewOrleans."
"And it was not your mirror showed a mournful countenance that day,Marquise," returned the other. "I am glad some one can laugh; but forme, I feel more like crying, and that's the truth. Heavens! How longthat time seemed until you came."
"I know," and the glance of her mistress was very kind. "I could feelthat you were walking the floor and waiting, but it was not possibleto get away sooner. Get the other brush, child; there are wrinkles inmy head as well as my hair this evening; you must help me to smooththem."
But the maid was not to be comforted by even that suggestion, thoughshe brushed the wavy, dusky mane with loving hands--one could not butread tenderness in every touch she gave the shining tresses. But hersighs were frequent for all that.
"Me of help?" she said, hopelessly. "I tell you true, Marquise, I amno use to anybody, I'm that nervous. I was afraid of this journey allthe time. I told you so before you left Mobile; you only laughed at mysuperstitious fears, and now, even before we reach the place, you seewhat happened."
"I see," asserted the Marquise, smiling at her, teasingly, "but thenthe reasons you gave were ridiculous, Louise; you had dreams, and acoffin in a teacup. Come, come; it is not so bad as you fear, despitethe prophetic tea grounds; there is always a way out if you look forpaths; so we will look."
"It is all well for you, Marquise, to scoff at the omens; you are toolearned to believe in them; but it is in our blood, perhaps, and it'sno use us fighting against presentiments, for they're stronger than weare. I had no heart to get ready for the journey--not a bit. We arecut off from the world, and even suppose you could accomplish anythinghere, it will be more difficult than in the cities, and the danger somuch greater."
"Then the excitement will provide an attraction, child, and the lateweeks have really been very dull."
The hair dressing ceased because the maid could not manipulate thebrush and express sufficient surprise at the same time.
"Heavens, Madame! What then would you call lively if this has beendull? I'm patriotic enough--or revengeful enough, perhaps--for anyhuman sort of work; but you fairly frighten me sometimes the way youdash into things, and laughing at it all the time as if it was only ajoke to you, just as you are doing this minute. You are harder thaniron in some things and yet you look so delicately lovely--so like abeautiful flower--that every one loves you, and--"
"Every one? Oh, Louise, child, do you fancy, then, that you are thewhole world?"
The maid lifted the hand of the mistress and touched it to her cheek.
"I don't only love you, I worship you," she murmured. "You took me
when I was nothing, you trusted me, you taught me, you made a newwoman of me. I wouldn't ever mind slavery if I was your slave."
"There, there, Louise;" and she laid her hand gently on the head ofthe girl who had sunk on the floor beside her. "We are all slaves,more or less, to something in this world. Our hearts arrange thatwithout appeal to the law-makers."
"All but yours," said the maid, looking up at her fondly and halfquestioningly, "I don't believe your heart is allowed to arrangeanything for you. Your head does it all; that is why I say you arehard as iron in some things. I don't honestly believe your heart iseven in this cause you take such risks for. You think it over, decideit is wrong, and deliberately outstrip every one else in your endeavorto right it. That is all because you are very learned and verysuperior to the emotions of most people;" and she touched the hand ofthe Marquise caressingly. "That is how I have thought it all out; forI see that the motives others are moved by never touch you; theothers--even the high officials--do not understand you, or only onedid."
Her listener had drifted from attention to the soft caressing tones ofthe one time Parisian figurante, whose devotion was so apparent andwhose nature required a certain amount of demonstration. The Marquisehad, from the first, comprehended her wonderfully well, and knew thatback of those feminine, almost childish cravings for expression, therelived an affectionate nature too long debarred from worthy objects,and now absolutely adoring the one she deemed her benefactress; allthe more adoring because of the courage and daring, that to her had afascinating touch of masculinity about it; no woman less masterful,nor less beautiful, could have held the pretty Kora so completely. Thedramatic side of her nature was appealed to by the luxurioussurroundings of the Marquise, and the delightful uncertainty, as eachday's curtain of dawn was lifted, whether she was to see comedy ortragedy enacted before the night fell. She had been audience to both,many times, since the Marquise had been her mistress.
Just now the mistress was in some perplexed quandary of her own, andgave little heed to the flattering opinions of the maid, and onlyaroused to the last remark at which she turned with questioning eyes,not entirely approving:
"Whom do you mean?" she asked, with a trifle of constraint, and themaid sighed as she selected a ribbon to bind the braid she hadfinished.
"No one you would remember, Marquise," she said, shaking her head;"the trouble is you remember none of them, though you make itimpossible that they should forget you. Many of those fine gallants ofOrleans I was jealous of and glad to see go; but this one, truly now,he seemed to me well worth keeping."
"Had he a name?" asked the Marquise, removing some rings, and yawningslightly.
"He had," said the girl, who was unfolding a night robe and shakingthe wrinkles from the very Parisian confection of lawn and lace andtiny pink ribbons accenting neck and wrist. When she walked oneperceived a slight halt in her step--a reminder of the injury throughwhich her career in Paris had been brought to an end. "He had, myMarquise. I mean the Federal officer, Monroe--Captain Jack, the mencalled him. Of all the Orleans gentlemen he was the only one I thoughtfit for a mate for you--the only one I was sorry to see you sendaway."
"Send? What an imaginative romancer you are! He went where his dutycalled him, no doubt. I do not remember that I was responsible. Andyour choice of him shows you are at least not worldly in yourselections, for he was a reckless sort of ranger, I believe, with hissword and his assurance as chief belongings."
"You forget, Marquise, his courage."
"Oh, that!" and Judithe made a little gesture of dismissal; "it isnothing in a man, all men should have courage. But, to change thesubject, which of the two men have most interest for us tonight,Captain Jack or Dr. Delaven? The latter, I fancy. While you have beenchattering I have been making plans."
The maid ceased her movements about the room in the preparations forthe night, and, drawing a low stool closer, listened with allattention.
"Since you are afraid here and too much oppressed by your presentimentsto be useful"--she accompanied this derogatory statement with an amusedsmile--"I conclude it best for you to return to the sea-board atonce--before Dr. Delaven and the rest pay their duty visit here.
"I had hoped the change in your appearance would place you beyonddanger of recognition, and so it would with any one who had not knownyou personally. Madame McVeigh has been vaguely impressed with yourresemblance to Monsieur Dumaresque's picture. But the impression ofDr. Delaven would probably be less vague--his remembrance of you nothaving been entirely the memory of a canvas."
"That is quite true," agreed the other, with a regretful sigh. "I havespoken with him many times. He came with--with his friend Trouvelot tosee me when I was injured. It was he who told me the physicians werepropping me up with falsehoods, and taking my money for curing alameness they knew was incurable. Yes, he was my good friend in that.He would surely remember me," and she looked troubled.
"So I supposed; and with rumors abroad of an unknown in the heart ofthe South, who is a secret agent for the Federals, it is as well notto meet any one who could suggest that the name you use is an assumedone, it might interfere with your usefulness even more than yourdismal presentiments," and she arched her brows quizzically at themaid, who sighed forlornly over the complications suggested. "So, youmust leave at once."
"Leave, alone--without you?" and the girl's agitation was veryapparent. "Madame, I beg you to find some reason for going with me, orfor following at once. I could send a dispatch from Savannah, youcould make some excuse! You, oh, Marquise! if I leave you here alone Iwould be in despair; I would fear I should never, never see youagain!"
"Nonsense, child! There is absolutely no ground for your fears. If youshould meet trouble in any way you have only to send me word and Iwill be with you. But your imaginary terrors you must yourself subdue.Come, now, be reasonable. You must go back--it is decided. Take noteof all landmarks as we did in coming; if messengers are needed it ismuch better that you inform yourself of all approaches here. Wait forthe yacht at Savannah. Buy anything needed for its refurnishing, andsee that a certain amount of repairing is done there while you waitfurther orders. I shall probably have it brought to Beaufort, later,which would be most convenient if I should desire to give my goodfriends here a little salt water excursion. So, you perceive, it isall very natural, and it is all decided."
"Heavens, Marquise, how fast you move! I had only got so far I wasafraid to remain, and afraid to excite wonder by leaving; and while Ilament, you arrange a campaign."
"Exactly; so you see how easily it is all to be done, and how littleuse your fears."
"I am so much more contented that I will see everything as youwish," promised the girl, brightly. "Savannah, after all, is notvery far, and Beaufort is nearer still. But after all, you must own,my presentiments were not all wrong, Marquise. It really wasunlucky--this journey."
"We have heretofore had only good fortune; why should we complainbecause of a few obstacles now?" asked her mistress. "To become adiplomat one needs to be first a philosopher, and prepared at alltimes for the worst."
"I could be more of a philosopher myself over these complications,"agreed the girl, smiling, "if I were a foreigner of rank seekingamusement and adventure. But the troubles of all this country havecome so close home to the people of my race that we fear even to thinkwhat the worst might be."
The Marquise held up an admonishing finger and glanced towards thedoor.
"Of course no one hears, but it is best never to allow yourself thehabit of referring to family or personal affairs. Even though we speaka language not generally understood in this country, do not--even tome--speak of your race. I know all, understand it all, without words;and, for the people we have met, they do not doubt you are a SanDomingo Creole. You must be careful lest they think differently."
"You are right; what a fool I am! My tongue ever runs ahead of my wit.Marquise, sometimes I laugh when I remember how capable I thoughtmyself on leaving Paris, what great things I was to do--I!" and sheshrugged h
er plump shoulders in self derision. "Why, I should havebeen discovered a dozen times had I depended on my own wit. I am agood enough orderly, but only under a capable general," and she made asmiling courtesy to the Marquise.
"Chatterbox! If I am the general of your distinguished selection, Ishall issue an order at once for your immediate retirement."
"Oh, Marquise!"
"To bed," concluded her mistress, gayly, "go; I shall not need you. Ihave work to do."
The girl first unlaced the dark boots and substituted a pair of softpink slippers, and touched her cheek to the slender foot.
"I shall envy the maid who does even that for you when I am gone," shesaid, softly. "Now, good rest to you, my general, and pleasantdreams."
"Thanks; but my dreams are never formidable nor important," was theteasing reply as the maid vanished. The careless smile gave way to aquick sigh of relief as the door closed. She arose and walked back andforth across the room with nervous, rapid steps, her hands claspedback of her head and the wide sleeves of the robe slipped back,showing the perfect arms. She seemed a trifle taller than when inParis that first springtime, and the open robe revealed a figurestatuesque, perfect as a sculptor's ideal, yet without the statue'scoldness; for the uncovered throat and bosom held delicious dimpleswhere the robe fell apart and was swept aside by her restlessmovements.
But her own appearance was evidently far from her thoughts at thatmoment. Several of Mrs. McVeigh's very affectionate words and glanceshad recurred to her and brought her a momentary restlessness. It wasutterly absurd that it should be so, especially when she hadencouraged the fondness, and meant to continue doing so. But she hadnot counted on being susceptible to the same feeling for KennethMcVeigh's mother--yet she had come very near it, and felt it necessaryto lay down the limits as to just how far she would allow such afondness to lead her.
And the fact that she was in the home of her one-time lover gave riseto other complex fancies. How would they meet if chance should sendhim there during her stay? He had had time for many more such boyishfancies since those days, and back of them all was the home sweetheartshe heard spoken of so often--Gertrude Loring.
How very, very long ago it seemed since the meetings at Fontainbleau;what an impulsive fool she had been, and how childish it all seemednow!
But Judithe de Caron told herself she was not the sort of person toallow memories of bygone sentiment to interfere for long withpractical affairs. She drew up a chair to the little stand by thewindow and plunged into the work she had spoken of, and for an hourher pen moved rapidly over the paper until page after page was laidaside.
But after the last bit of memoranda was completed she leaned back,looking out into the blue mists of the night--across his landsluxuriant in all the beauty of summer time and moonlight, the fieldsover which he had ridden, the trees under which he had walked, with,perhaps, an occasional angry thought of her--never dreaming that she,also, would walk there some day.
"But to think that I _am_ actually here--here above all!" she murmuredsoftly. "Maman, once I said I would be Judithe indeed to that man ifhe was ever delivered into my hands. Yet, when he came I ran away fromhim--ran away because I was afraid of him! But now--"
Her beautiful eyes half closed in a smile not mirthful, and thesentence was left unfinished.