In one of the fairest of the West Indian islands a simple but elegant
villa lifted its gabled roofs amidst a bewildering wealth of tropical
beauty. Brilliant birds flitted among the foliage, gold and silver
fishes darted to and fro in a large stone basin of a fountain which
threw its glittering spray over the lawn in front of the house, and on
the vine-shaded veranda hammocks hung temptingly, and low wicker chairs
invited to repose.
Behind the jalousies of the library the owner of the villa sat at a
desk, busily writing. He was a slight, delicate looking man, with an
expression of careless good humor upon his face and an easy air of
assurance according with the interior of the room which bespoke a
cultured taste and the ability to gratify it. Books were everywhere,
rare bits of china, curios and exquisitely tinted shells lay in
picturesque confusion upon tables and wall brackets of native woods;
soft silken draperies fell from the windows and partially screened from
view a large alcove where microscopes of different sizes stood upon
cabinets whose shelves were filled with a miscellaneous collection of
rare plants and beautiful insects, specimens from the agate forest of
Arizona, petrified remains from the 'Bad Lands' of Dakota, feathery
fronded seaweed, skeletons of birds and strange wild creatures, and all
the countless curiosities in which naturalists delight.
Lenox Hildreth when a young man, forced to flee from the rigors of the
New England climate by reason of an inherited tendency to pulmonary
disease, had chosen Barbadoes as his adopted country, and had never
since revisited the land of his birth. From the first, fortune had
smiled upon him, and when, some time after his marriage with the
daughter of a wealthy planter, she had come into possession of all her
father's estates, he had built the house which for fifteen years he had
called home. When Evadne, their only daughter, was a little maiden of
six, his wife had died, and for nine years father and child had been all
the world to each other.
He finished writing at last with a sigh of relief, and folding the
letter, together with one addressed to Evadne, he enclosed both in a
large envelope which he sealed and addressed to Judge Hildreth,
Marlborough, Mass. Then he leaned back in his chair, and, clasping his
hands behind his head, looked fixedly at the picture of his fair young
wife which hung above his desk.
"A bad job well done, Louise--or a good one. Our little lass isn't very
well adapted to making her way among strangers, and the Bohemianism of
this life is a poor preparation for the heavy respectability of a New
England existence. Lawrence is a good fellow, but that wife of his
always put me in mind of iced champagne, sparkling and cold." He sighed
heavily, "Poor little Vad! It is a dreary outlook, but it seems my one
resource. Lawrence is the only relative I have in the world.
"After all, I may be fighting windmills, and years hence may laugh at
this morning's work as an example of the folly of yielding to
unnecessary alarm. Danvers is getting childish. All physicians get to be
old fogies, I fancy, a natural sequence to a life spent in hunting down
germs I suppose. They grow to imagine them where none exist."
He rose, and strolled out on the veranda. As he did so, a negro, whose
snow-white hair had earned for him from his master the sobriquet of
Methusaleh, came towards the broad front steps. He was a grotesque image
as he stood doffing a large palm-leaf hat, and Lenox Hildreth felt an
irresistible inclination to laugh, and laughed accordingly. His
morning's occupation had been one of the rare instances in which he had
run counter to his inclinations. Sky blue cotton trousers showed two
brown ankles before his feet hid themselves in a pair of clumsy shoes; a
scarlet shirt, ornamented with large brass buttons and fastened at the
throat with a cotton handkerchief of vivid corn color, was surmounted by
an old nankeen coat, upon whose gaping elbows a careful wife had sewn
patches of green cloth; his hands were encased in white cotton gloves
three sizes too large, whose finger tips waved in the wind as their
wearer flourished his palm-leaf headgear in deprecating obeisance.
"Well, Methusaleh, where are you off to now?" and Lenox Hildreth leaned
against a flower wreathed pillar in lazy amusement.
"To camp-meetin', Mass Hildreff. I hez your permission, sah?" and the
negro rolled his eyes with a ludicrous expression of humility.
His master laughed with the easy indulgence which made his servants
impose upon him.
"You seem to have taken it, you rascal. It is rather late in the day to
ask for permission when you and your store clothes are all ready for a
start."
"'Scuse me, Mass Hildreff," with another deprecating wave of the
palm-leaf hat, "but yer see I knowed yer wouldn't dissapint me of de
priv'lege uv goin' ter camp-meetin' nohow."
Lenox Hildreth held his cigar between his slender fingers and watched
the tiny wreaths of smoke as they circled about his head.
"So camp-meeting is a privilege, is it?" he said carelessly. "How much
more good will it do you to go there than to stay at home and hoe my
corn?"
The eyes were rolled up until only the whites were visible.
"Powerful sight more good, Mass Hildreff. De preacher's 'n uncommon
relijus man, an' de 'speriences uv de bredren is mighty upliftin'. Yes,
sah!"
"Well, see that they don't lift you up so high that you'll forget to
come down again. I suppose you have an experience in common with the
rest?"
"Yes, Mass Hildreff," and the palm-leaf made another gyration through
the air. "I'se got a powerful 'sperience, sah."
"Well, off you go. It would be a pity to deprive the assembly of such
an edifying specimen of sanctimoniousness."
"Yes, sah, I'se bery sanktimonyus. I'se 'bliged to you, sah."
With a last obsequious flourish the palm-leaf was restored to its
resting-place upon the snowy wool, and the negro shambled away. When he
had gone a few yards a sudden thought struck his master and he called,--
"Methusaleh, I say, Methusaleh!"
"Yes, sah," and the servant retraced his steps.
"What about that turkey of mine that you stole last week? You can't go
to camp-meeting with that on your conscience. Come, now, better take off
your finery and repent in sackcloth and ashes."
For an instant the negro was nonplused, then the palm-leaf was
flourished grandiloquently, while its owner said in a voice of withering
scorn,--
"Laws! Mass Hildreff, do yer spose I'se goin' ter neglec' de Lawd fer
one lil' turkey?"
His master turned on his heel with a low laugh. "Of a piece with the
whole of them!" he said bitterly. "Hypocrites and shams!"
"Evadne!" he exclaimed impetuously, as a slight girlish figure came
towards him, "never say a single word that you do not mean nor express
a sensation that you have not felt. It is the people who neglect this
rule who play havoc with themselves and the world."
"Why, dearest, you frighten me!" and the girl slipped her hand through
his arm with a low, sweet laugh. "I never saw you look so solemn
before."
"Hypocrisy, Vad, is the meanest thing on earth! The pious people at the
church yonder call me an unbeliever, but they've got themselves to thank
for it. I may be a good-for-nothing but at least I will not preach what
I do not practise."
"You are as good as gold, dearest. I won't have you say such horrid
things! And you don't need to preach anything. I am sure no one in all
the world could be happier than we."
Her father put his hand under her chin, and, lifting her face towards
his, looked long and earnestly at the pure brow, about which the brown
hair clustered in natural curls, the clear-cut nose, the laughing lips
parted over a row of pearls, and the wonderful deep gray eyes.
"_Are_ you happy, little one?" he asked wistfully. "Are you quite sure
about that?"
"Happy!" the girl echoed the word with an incredulous smile. "Why,
dearest, what has come to you? You never needed to ask me such a
question before! Don't you know there isn't a girl in Barbadoes who has
been so thoroughly spoiled, and has found the spoiling so sweet? Do I
look more than usually mournful to-day that you should think I am pining
away with grief?" She looked up at him with a roguish laugh.
He smiled and laid his finger caressingly on the dimpled chin. "Dear
little bird!" he said tenderly; "but when this dimple captivates the
heart of some one, Vad, you will fly away and leave the poor father in
the empty nest."
Her color glowed softly through the olive skin. She threw her arms
around his neck and laid her face against his breast. "You know better!"
she exclaimed passionately. "You know I wouldn't leave you for all the
'some ones' in the world!"
Her father caught her close. "Poor little lass!" he said with a sigh.
The girl lifted her head and looked at him anxiously. "Dearest, what
_is_ the matter? I am sure you are not well! You have been sitting too
long at that tiresome writing."
"Yes, that is it, darling," he said with a sudden change of tone.
"Writing always does give me the blues. I think the man who invented the
art should have been put in a pillory for the rest of his natural life.
Blow your whistle for Sam to bring the horses and we will go for a ride
along the beach."
Evadne lifted the golden whistle which hung at her girdle and blew the
call which the well-trained servant understood. "Fi, dearest!" she said,
"if there were no writing there would be no books, and what would become
of our beautiful evenings then? But I am glad you do not have to write
much, since it tires you so. What has it all been about, dear? Am I
never to know?"
"Some day, perhaps, little Vad. But do not indulge in the besetting sin
of your sex, or, like the mother of the race, you may find your apple
choke you in the chewing."
Evadne shook her finger at him. "Naughty one! As if you were not three
times as curious as I! And when it comes to waiting,--you should have
named me Patience, sir!"
Her father laughed as he kissed her, then he tied on her hat, threw on
his own, and hand-in-hand like two children they ran down the veranda
steps to where the groom stood waiting with the horses.