CHAPTER XVII.

It was nearly dark when we returned to the mansion. Looking in at the

parlor, and not finding his father there, Joe led the way at once to the

library. The door was ajar, and, as we entered the passage way, loud

voices were issuing from it.

'I tell you, Mr. Preston, I am mistress of this plantation. He shall NOT

go!'

'Pardon me, madam, he _shall_, and to-night,' returned a mild but

decided voice, which I recognized as Preston's. Being unwilling to

overhear more, I turned away, but Joe caught me by the arm, exclaiming:

'If you are my father's friend, go in. If you don't, he will back down;

he has done so forty times.'

Preston was a man of more than ordinary firmness, but his wife had the

stronger will. She seemed possessed of a sort of magnetic power, which

enabled her to control others almost arbitrarily.

Reluctantly I followed the young man into the room. Preston was seated

before the fire; and Selma, with her arm around his neck, was standing

near him. Mulock, better clad than when I witnessed his purchase by the

'fast' young planter, and wearing a sullen, dogged expression, was

leaning against the centre table; and Mrs. Preston, gesticulating

wildly, and her face glowing with mingled rage and defiance, stood

within a few feet of her husband. Not heeding our entrance, she

exclaimed:

'I _will_ have my way. If you send him off, I will never darken your

doors again.'

'That is as you please, madam,' replied Preston. 'Mr. Kirke and Frank,

pray be seated.'

Stung by her husband's coolness, the lady turned fiercely upon Joe, and,

shaking her clenched hand in his face, cried out:

'This is _your_ work. I will teach you better than to meddle with my

affairs.'

* * * * *

'Madam, you act well,' said the young man, taking a step toward the

door. 'Pray come out to the quarters; poor as they are, every negro will

give a bit to see _you_ play.'

In uncontrollable rage, she struck him a smart blow in the face, and

rushed from the room.

When she had gone, Preston turned to Mulock:

'Now go. The amount due you I shall retain to offset, in part, what you

have tempted the negroes to steal. You can come here once a week--on

Sunday--to see Phylly; but if you have any more dealings with the hands,

I will prosecute you on the instant.'

Mulock rose, put on his slouched hat, and, a dull fire burning in his

cold, snake-like eyes, slowly said:

'Wall, Squire, I'll gwo, but 'counts 'tween you an' me ain't settled

yit.'

As he went, Selma leaned forward, and, kissing Preston's cheek, said;

'O father! I'm so glad _you_ didn't speak harshly to her.'

Preston put his arm about her, and replied:

'You helped me, my child. I should be a better, happier man, if you were

with me.'

'And I will be, father; I won't go away any more.'

'But Frank?' said Preston, again kissing her.

'Oh, you know we're not to be married for a good while yet. I'll stay

with you _till then_, father.'

'Ah! there she goes,' said Joe, looking out at the window, which

commanded a view of the _porte cochere_; 'she can't get to Newbern till

ten, but the night air won't hurt _her_.'

'Then she makes Newbern her home now?'

'Yes, she spends the winters there; she came here only yesterday.'

The Continental Monthly, Vol 3 No 3, March 1863 Devoted To Literature And National Policy · 第 6 / 9 章