I received my mother's embrace with filial warmth; my sister's in
silence--almost with coldness. My mother noticed this, and wondered.
Gallagher also shewed reserve in his greeting of Virginia; and neither
did this pass unobserved.
Of the four, my sister was the least embarrassed; she was not
embarrassed at all. On the contrary, her lips moved freely, and her
eyes sparkled with a cheerful expression, as if really joyed by our
arrival.
"You have been on horseback, sister?" I said, in a tone that affected
indifference as to the reply.
"Say, rather, pony-back. My little Foxey scarcely deserves the proud
title of horse. Yes, I have been out for an airing."
"Alone?"
"Quite alone--_solus bolus_, as the black people have it."
"Is it prudent, sister?"
"Why not? I often do it. What have I to fear? The wolves and panthers
are hunted out, and White Fox is too swift either for a bear or an
alligator."
"There are creatures to be encountered in the woods more dangerous than
wild beasts."
I watched her countenance as I made the remark, but I saw not the
slightest change.
"What creatures, George?" she asked in a drawling tone, imitating that
in which I had spoken.
"Redskins--Indians," I answered abruptly.
"Nonsense, brother; there are no Indians in this neighbourhood--at
least," added she with marked hesitation, "none that _we_ need fear.
Did I not write to tell you so? You are fresh from the hostile ground,
where I suppose there is an Indian in every bush; but remember, Geordy,
you have travelled a long way, and unless you have brought the savages
with you, you will find none here. So, gentlemen, you may go to sleep
to-night without fear of being awakened by the _Yo-ho-ehee_."
"Is that so certain, Miss Randolph?" inquired Gallagher, now joining in
the conversation, and no longer "broguing" it. "Your brother and I have
reason to believe that some, who have already raised the war-cry, are
not so far off from the settlements of the Suwanee."
"_Miss_ Randolph! Ha, ha, ha! Why _Mister_ Gallagher, where did you
learn that respectful appellative? It is so distant you must have
fetched it a long way. _It_ used to be Virginia, and Virgine, and
Virginny, and simple 'Gin--for which last I could have spitted you,
_Mister_ Gallagher, and would, had you not given up calling me so.
What's the matter? It is just three months since we--that is, you and
I, Mister Gallagher--met last; and scarcely two since Geordy and I
parted; and now you are both here--one talking as solemnly as Solon, the
other as soberly as Socrates! George, I presume, after another spell of
absence, will be styling me _Miss_ Randolph--I suppose that's the
fashion at the fort. Come, fellows," she added, striking the balustrade
with her whip, "your minds and your mouths, and give me the reason of
this wonderful `transmogrification,' for by my word, you shall not eat
till you do!"
The relation in which Gallagher stood to my sister requires a little
explanation. He was not new either to her or my mother. During their
sojourn in the north, he had met them both; but the former often. As my
almost constant companion, he had ample opportunity of becoming
acquainted with Virginia; and he had, in reality, grown well acquainted
with her. They met on the most familiar terms--even to using the
diminutives of each other's names; and I could understand why my sister
regarded "Miss Randolph" as a rather distant mode of address; but I
understood, also, why he had thus addressed her.
There was a period when I believed my friend in love with Virginia; that
was shortly after their introduction to each other. But as time wore
on, I ceased to have this belief. Their behaviour was not that of
lovers--at least, according to my notion. They were too _friendly_ to
be in love. They used to romp together, and read comic books, and
laugh, and chatter by the hour about trivial things, and call each other
jack-names, and the like. In fact, it was a rare thing to hear them
either talk or act soberly when in each other's company. All this was
so different from my ideas of how two lovers _would_ act--so different
from the way in which _I_ should have acted--that I gave up the fancy I
had held, and afterwards regarded them as two beings whose characters
had a certain correspondence, and whose hearts were in unison for
friendship, but not for love.
One other circumstance confirmed me in this belief: I observed that my
sister, during Gallagher's absence, had little relish for gaiety, which
had been rather a characteristic of her girlish days; but the moment the
latter would make his appearance, a sadden change would come over her,
and she would enter with _abandon_ into all the idle bagatelle of the
hour.
Love, thought I, does not so exhibit itself. If there was one in whom
she felt a heart-interest, it was not he who was present. No--Gallagher
was not the man; and the play that passed between them was but the fond
familiarity of two persons who esteemed each other, without a spark of
love being mixed up in the affection.
The dark suspicion that now rested upon his mind, as upon my own, had
evidently saddened him--not from any feeling of jealousy, but out of
pure friendly sympathy for me--perhaps, too, for her. His bearing
towards her, though within the rules of the most perfect politeness,
_was_ changed--much changed; no wonder she took notice of it--no wonder
she called for an explanation.
"Quick!" cried she, cutting the vine-leaves with her whip. "Is it a
travesty, or are you in earnest? Unbosom yourselves both, or I keep my
vow--you shall have no dinner. I shall myself go to the kitchen, and
countermand it."
Despite the gloomy thoughts passing within, her manner and the odd
menace compelled Gallagher to break into laughter--though his laugh was
far short of the hearty cachinnation she had been accustomed to hear
from him.
I was myself forced to smile; and, seeing the necessity of smothering my
emotions, I stammered forth what might pass for an explanation. It was
not the time for the true one.
"Verily, sister," said I, "we are too tired for mirth, and too hungry as
well. Consider how far we have ridden, and under a broiling sun!
Neither of us has tasted a morsel since leaving the fort, and our
breakfast there was none of the most sumptuous--corncakes and weak
coffee, with pickled pork. How I long for some of Aunt Sheba's Virginia
biscuits and `chicken fixings.' Pray, let us have our dinner, and then
you shall see a change in us! We shall both be as merry as sand-boys
after it."
Satisfied with this explanation, or affecting to be so--for her response
was a promise to let us have our dinner--accompanied by a cheerful
laugh--my sister retired to make the necessary change in her costume,
while my friend and I were shown to our separate apartments.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
At dinner, and afterwards, I did my utmost to counterfeit ease--to
appear happy and cheerful. I noticed that Gallagher was enacting a
similar _metier_.
Perhaps this seeming may have deceived my mother, but not Virginia. Ere
many hours had passed, I observed signs of suspicion--directed equally
against Gallagher as myself. She suspected that all was not right, and
began to show pique--almost spitefulness--in her conversation with us
both.