A SUNDAY DRIVE
Mrs. Cecil was extremely restless. She had been so ever since her visit
to Kidder & Kidder. She would roam from room to room of her great house,
staying long in none, finding fault with everybody and everything, in a
manner most unusual. For though she was sharp of speech, at times, the
times were fortunately at intervals, not incessant; but now she had
altered and her dependents felt it to be for the worse.
"I declar' my soul, Ephraim, looks lak ouah Miss Betty done got somepin'
on her min', de way she ca'y on erbout nottin er tall. Jus' cayse cook,
she done put sallyratus in dem biscuits, stidder raisin' 'em yeas' cake
way, she done 'most flung 'em offen de table. All de time fussin' wid
some us boys an' girls, erbout some fault er nother; an' I lay out it's
her own min' is all corrodin' wid wickedness. What's yo' 'pinion now,
Ephraim, boy?"
The old colored man pushed away his plate and scratched his white wool.
He was loyalty itself to his Miss Betty, but in his heart he agreed with
Dinah that the house of Calvert had fallen upon uncomfortable times.
Fortunately, he was saved the trouble of a reply, by the sharp ringing
of the stable bell.
"What now!" cried Dinah, hurrying away.
Dinner had been served as usual. As usual Mrs. Cecil had attended
service at old St. Paul's, but had felt herself defrauded because the
rector had invited a stranger to occupy the pulpit: "when he knows as
well as I do that this is my last Sunday in Baltimore, before the
autumn, and should have paid me the respect of preaching himself," she
had confided to her next-pew neighbor. Whereupon that other old member
had felt herself also aggrieved, and had left the edifice for her
carriage in a most unchristian state of mind. As usual, the one
church-going and the stately dinner over, the household had settled into
a Sunday somnolence. Ephraim had a comfortable lounge in the
carriage-house loft and was ready for his afternoon nap. Cook was
already asleep, in her kitchen rocker; and having finished her own
grumble, Dinah was about to follow the universal custom, and seek repose
in the little waiting-room beyond her mistress's boudoir, while that
lady enjoyed the same within. For that stable bell to ring at this
unwonted hour was enough to startle both old servants, and to send Dinah
speeding to answer it.
"Bless yo' heart, Miss Betty, did you-all done ring dat bell? Or did dat
Methusalem done it, fo' mischievousness?"
"I rang it, Dinah. Tell Ephraim to harness his horses. I'm going out for
a drive."
Dinah delayed to obey. Drive on Sunday? Such a thing was unheard of,
except on the rare occasion of some intimate friend being desperately
ill. Instantly the maid's thought ran over the list of her mistress's
intimates, but could find none who was ailing, or hardly one who was
still in town.
"Lawd, honey, Miss Betty, who-all's sick?"
"Nobody, you foolish girl. Can't I stir off these grounds unless somebody
is ill? I'm going to drive. I've no need to tell you, you've no right to
ask me--but one must humor imbecility! _I--am--going--to--drive!_ I--I'm
not sleeping as well as usual, and I need the air. Now, get my things, and
don't stare."
"Yas'm. Co'se. Yas'm. But year me, Miss Betty Somerset, if yo' po' maw
was er libin' you-all wouldn't get to go no ridin' on a Sunday ebenin',
jus' if yo' didn' know no diff'rent. Lak dem po' no-'count folks what
doan' b'long to good famblies. You-all may go, whuther er no, cayse yo'
does most inginerally take yo' own way. But I owes it to yo' maw to
recommind you-all o' yo' plain, Christian duty."
With that Dinah felt she had relieved herself of all obligation either
to duty or tradition, and proceeded with great dignity to bring out her
lady's handsome wrap and hat: while down deep in that old gentlewoman's
breast fluttered a feeling of actual guilt. It was a lifelong habit she
was about to break; a habit that had been the law of her parents in the
days of her youth. When one was a privileged person of leisure, who
could take her outings on any week-day, she should pay strictest honor
to the Sabbath.
However, Miss Betty had made up her mind to go and Miss Betty went. Not
only thus endangering her own soul but those of Dinah and Ephraim as
well; and once well out of city limits and the possible observation of
friends, the affair began to have for all three the sweet flavor of
stolen fruit.
"It's delightful. It's such a perfect day. 'Twould be more sinful to
waste it indoors, asleep, than to be out here on the highway, passing
through such loveliness. We'll--_We'll come again_, some other Sunday,
Dinah," observed Mrs. Cecil, when they had already traveled some few
miles.
But it was Dinah's hour for sleep, and having been prevented from
indulging herself at home in a proper place and condition, she saw no
reason why she shouldn't nod here and now. The carriage was full as
comfortable as her own easy-chair, and she had been ordered to ride, not
to stay awake.
So, finding her remarks unheeded, Mrs. Cecil set herself to studying the
landscape; and she found this so soothing to her tired nerves that when
the coachman asked if he should turn about, she indignantly answered:
"No. Time for that when I give the order. It's my carriage, as I often
have to remind you, Ephraim."
"Yas'm. Dat's so, Miss Betty. But dese yere hosses, dey ain' much usen
to trabelin' so fur, cos' erspecially not inginerally on a _Sunday_."
"Do them good, boy, do them good. They're so fat they can hardly trot a
rod before they're winded. When we get into the country, and they have
to climb up and down those hills of the highlands, they'll lose some of
their bulk. They're a sight now. I'm fairly ashamed of them. Touch them
up, boy, touch them up. See if they can travel at all. They had a good
deal of spirit when I bought them, but you'd ruin any team you shook
the reins over, Ephraim. Touch them up!"
Ephraim groaned, but obeyed; and, for a brief distance, the bays did
trot fairly well, as if there had come to their equine minds a memory of
that past when they had been young and frisky. Then they settled down
again to their ordinary jog, quite unlike their mistress's mood, which
grew more and more excited and gay the longer she trespassed upon her
old-time habits.
Nobody, who loved nature at all, could resist the influence of that
golden summer afternoon--"evening" as southerners call it. To Mrs. Cecil
as to little Dorothy, hours before, came the sweet, suggestive odor of
honeysuckle; that brought back old memories, touched to tenderness her
heart, and to an undefinable longing for something and somebody on which
to expend all that stored-up affection.
"Tu'n yet, Miss Betty? Dat off hoss done gettin' badly breathed,"
suggested Ephraim, rudely breaking in upon Mrs. Cecil's reflections.
"Oh, you tiresome boy! One-half mile more, then turn if you will and
must. For me--I haven't enjoyed myself nor felt so at peace in--in
several days. Not since that wretched plumber came to Bellevieu and
stirred me all up with his--gossip. I could drive on forever! but, of
course, I'm human, and I'll remember you, Ephraim, as well as my poor,
abused horses! One mile--did I say a half? Well, drive on, anyway."
It was at the very turn of the road that she saw them.
A long, lanky lad, far worse winded than her fat bays, skulking along
behind the honeysuckle hedge-rows, as if in hiding from somebody. As
they approached each other--she in her roomy carriage, he on his bruised
and aching feet--she saw that he was almost spent; that he carried a
girl on his back; and that the desperation of fear was on both their
young faces. Then looking forward along her side of the hedge, down the
road that stretched so smooth and even, she saw two men on horseback.
They were riding swiftly, and now and then one would rise in his
stirrups and peer over the hedge, as if to keep in sight the struggling
children, then settle back again into that easy lope that was certain of
speedy victory.
Mrs. Cecil's nerves tingled with a new--an old--sensation. In the days
of her girlhood she had followed the hounds over many a well-contested
field. Behold here again was a fox-hunt--with two human children for
foxes! Whatever they might have done, how deserved re-capture, she
didn't pause to inquire. All her old sporting blood rose in her, but--on
the side of the foxes!
"Drive, drive, Ephraim, drive! Kill the horses--save those children!"
Ephraim had once been young, too, and he caught his lady's spirit with a
readiness that delighted her. In a moment the carriage was abreast the
fleeing children on that further side the hedge, and Mrs. Cecil's voice
was excitedly calling:
"Come through! Come through the hedge! We'll befriend you!"
It had been a weary, weary race. Although her foot had been so carefully
bandaged by Daniel St. John, it was not fit to be used and Dorothy's
suffering could not be told in words. Jim had done his best. He had
comforted, encouraged, carried her; at times, incessantly, but with a
now fast-dying hope that they could succeed in evading these pursuers,
so relentlessly intent upon their capture.
"It's the money, Dorothy, they want. They mustn't get it. That's your
folkses'--do try--you _must_ keep on! I'll--they shan't--Oh, pshaw!"
Wheels again! again added to that thump, thump, thump of steel-shod
hoofs along the hard road! and the youth felt that the race was
over--himself beaten.
Then he peered through a break in the honeysuckle and saw a wonderful
old lady with snow-white hair and a beautiful face, standing up in a
finer vehicle than he had known could be constructed, and eagerly
beckoning him to: "Come! Come!"
He stood still, panting for breath, and Dorothy lifted her face which
she had hidden on his shoulder and--what was that the child was calling?
"Mrs. Cecil! Mrs. Cecil! Don't you know me? John Chester's little girl?
'Johnnie'--postman 'Johnnie'--you know him--take me home!"
The two horsemen came riding up and reined in shortly. There was
bewilderment on their faces and disappointment in their hearts; for
behold! here were five hundred dollars being swept out of their very
grasp by a wealthy old woman who didn't need a cent!
And what was that happy old creature answering to the fugitive's appeal
but an equally joyful:
"Dorothy C.! You poor lost darling--Dorothy C.! Thank God you're found!
Thank Him I took this ride this day!"
Another moment and not only Dorothy but poor Jim Barlow, mud-stained,
unkempt, as awkward a lad as ever lived and as humble, was riding toward
Baltimore city in state, on a velvet-covered cushion beside one of its
most aristocratic dames!
This was a turn in affairs, indeed; and the discomfited horsemen, who
had felt a goodly sum already within their pockets, followed the
equipage into town to learn the outcome of the matter.
Dorothy was on Mrs. Cecil's own lap; who minded nothing of the soiled
little garments but held the child close with a pitying maternity,
pathetic in so old and childless a woman.
But, oddly enough, she permitted no talk or explanation. There would be
time enough for that when the safe shelter of Bellevieu was reached and
there were no following interlopers to overhear. Even Dinah could only
sit and stare, wondering if her beloved "honey" had suddenly lost her
wits; but Ephraim comprehended that his mistress now meant it when she
urged "Speed! speed!" and put his fat bays to a run such as they had not
taken since their earliest youth.
Through the eagle-gateway, into the beautiful grounds, around to that
broad piazza where Dorothy had made disastrous acquaintance with the two
Great Danes, and on quite into the house. But there Jim would have
retreated, and even Dorothy looked and wondered: saying, as she was
gently taken in old Dinah's arms and laid upon the mistress's own
lounge:
"Thank you, but I won't lie down here, if you please. I love you so much
for bringing me back, but home--home's just around the corner, and I
can't wait! Jim and I will go now--please--and thank you! thank you!"
Yet now, back in her own home, it was a very calm and courteous old
gentlewoman--no longer an impulsive one--who answered:
"For the present, Dorothy C., you will have to be content with
Bellevieu. John Chester and his wife have gone to the country. To a
far-away state, and to a little property she owns. Fortunately, I am
going to that same place very soon and will take you to them. I am sorry
for your disappointment, but you are safe with me till then."