THE sun shining into my eyes next morning awoke me, and turning over
I heard the rattle and rub of the brush as Reuben polished away on my
boots, just outside the door.
“Reuben,” I yawned, “has Horace fed the horses?” Reuben came into the
room, with one boot casing his arm up to the elbow, like an ill-shaped
boxing glove, and the brush still flying up and down the shining
instep.
“I d’no, sir, spec he has doe, st—too!” and he stopped to spit on the
end of the brush, as if he wished to spit the hairs away, “he allays de
fust one up on de plantash’n.”
“Well, as soon as you get through with the boots, tell him to hitch the
gray horses to the spring wagon directly after breakfast; I am going to
town; and tell him to put in my saddle and bridle, as I want to ride my
horse back.”
“Which un, Marse John?” said Reuben, as he set the boots by my bedside,
“how’s one horse gwine to pull de wagin back here agin?”
“Dry up, and go tell Horace what I said. It is a new horse I am going
after, and you have got to attend to him for me, and you can ride him
to water every day.”
“Golly, dat’s ‘lishus; won’t dese quarter niggers stand back,” and he
ran down stairs, cutting an audible shuffle every third step.
I was just tying on my cravat when Reuben returned, with a lengthened
visage and a woful tale.
“Unken Horris was a waterin’ de horses, and when I tole him, he said
marster dun tole him, and dat was nough; and just cause I tole him to
hurry up, he tuk and cut me mos’ in two with de carridge whip.”
“I expect you were impudent to him; but he ought not to have struck you
when I sent you. I will see him about it after breakfast.”
This silenced but did not satisfy Reuben, who, like all negroes, was
anxious enough to see swift punishment fall on one who had offended
against himself, though he would have been full of sympathy for one who
suffered for any offence, however grievous, against a white person.
As we drove into Goldsboro’, an hour afterwards, the whistle sounded,
and the morning train came into sight, nodding up the track; the engine
steamed by like a great hog rooting its way along; then the baggage
car, its door open, and the baggage master leaning out; then the
coaches, and, as they all came to a stop, amid the shouts of a dozen
white aproned waiters, who were vowing that every passenger had plenty
of time to eat the most delicious breakfast ever prepared, Frank and
Ned, guns in hand, came down the car steps. I welcomed them warmly,
being delighted to see Ned, and determined that I would crush every
feeling of repugnance to Frank, and receive him with the hospitality
of a Southern home. As we walked up to our wagon, where our grays were
prancing and snorting at the train, Reuben came around from the hotel
stables, whither I had sent him for my new horse, leading him by the
halter. I almost forgot to breathe in my rapt admiration. He was the
most perfect specimen of horse flesh I had ever seen. His color was the
deepest chestnut or claret, and his hair looked as if it was just wound
from the cocoon, and his large prominent eye had a soft intelligent
expression that was almost human. His limbs were as delicate as a
gazelle’s, yet had that peculiar turn of the rounded muscles that
told of desert born ancestors. There was nothing of the charger about
him—no thunder-clothed neck, nor trumpet-like nostril; all was dainty
symmetry, but the symmetry of a form that could not know fatigue.
I could not tell whether he would drive or not, but I felt that it
would almost be a sin to clog such superb motion with harness. I
ordered Reuben to put the saddle and bridle on him, and turned to Ned
and Frank, and asked their opinion of him.
“I’ll vow he’s a beauty, John,” said Frank, as we put the valises in
the wagon; “let me ride him home for you, and find out his bad points,
if he has any.”
I could not refuse, and with much chagrin and disappointment saw Frank
gallop fleetly on ahead of the wagon, as we rattled on towards home.
Ned and I had much to talk about, and almost before we were aware of
it, were driving down the avenue.
Frank had waited for us to come up, and now cantered along by the side
of the wagon, descanting the praises of my steed in unmeasured terms.
When we entered the house, and Ned and Frank were met by the family, I
was really sorry for Lulie, so great was her embarrassment. She could
not bear to torture me by greeting Frank with the cordiality their
relations demanded, and she could not bear to hurt his feelings by
treating him coldly without a cause. Frank noticed her confusion, and
asked, in his free and easy way, “Why, Lulie, what is the matter with
you. Have you become so rustic already as to be frightened out of your
wits by the presence of gentlemen?”
“Don’t let him tease you, Lulie,” said mother, coming to her aid;
“Frank has mistaken the roses which our fresh air has given her for
blushes at his presence.”
“Not at all, Mrs. Smith; I am too much of a _connoisseur_ in ladies’
faces to mistake confusion for health. I will leave it to Miss
Rurleston if Lulie wasn’t ashamed to meet us.”
But Carlotta, with her face all bright with animation, was deeply
engaged in questioning Ned about Mr. and Mrs. Cheyleigh, and expressing
her gratitude for their kindness, and did not hear his remark.
“Well, boys,” interrupted mother, “I suppose you are both dusty and
warm, and wish to go to your rooms. John, show them up; and remember
one thing, you came up here to enjoy yourselves; do so to the fullest
extent. Everything on the premises that will serve your amusement is at
your service; the house and furniture are old, so you need not fear to
be as boisterous as you please. When you come down from your rooms your
breakfast will be ready, or I will send it up, if you prefer it.”
“You are very kind,” said both, “we will soon be down.”
I had persuaded mother to fix the large room for us all three, so that
we could enjoy ourselves more together than if formally separated.
As soon as we got into our room, and Frank had thrown off his duster
and coat, he broke forth in his praises of Carlotta.
“I’ll vow she is superb; my life! what an eye she has! I had no idea,
when I wrapped her up in our jackets on the beach, and she looked so
cold and pitiful, that she was such a beauty. Ned, she seemed to tackle
to you strongly. I could not make her hear me.”
“She was only asking me about home. You know she staid there several
days before she came up to Col. Smith’s.”
“She’s devilish grave, though,” said Frank, pouring the basin full of
water.
“Remember, Frank, what she has so recently passed through,” said I;
“she is really bright when she can forget her bereavement; then, too,
she is contrasted here with Lulie, who is all life and gaiety.”
“Ah!” said Frank, wiping the words out of his mouth with the towel,
“Lulie is the star after all. If she just had Carlotta’s beauty she
would break all your hearts. I wonder what she meant, though, by being
so confoundedly sour towards me. I believe I’ll try a little game with
Carlotta, any way, and see what grit she is made of, if for nothing
more than to _pique_ Lulie.”
“Frank, you forget Carlotta is my sister, now,” I said, gravely enough
to let him see that I was in earnest, yet not enough so to offend him,
as he was my guest.
“_Pardons, mille pardons, monsieur_,” he replied, folding a clean
collar, and nodding to me gaily.
“Frank,” said Ned, dusting his hat, “you are terribly conceited. How do
you know that your attentions to Miss Rurleston will _pique_ Lulie?”
“Oh, that’s my biz, you know,” returned Frank, shutting one eye at him;
“but I am afraid we are keeping Mrs. Smith’s breakfast waiting; let’s
go down.”
As we reached the basement stairs Lulie called me out to the porch,
while Ned and Frank went down. She was very much agitated as she said:
“John, I must go home to-morrow.”
“Go home, Lulie!”
“Yes; it will be a perfect torture to remain here with you and Frank.
He does not know of anything having passed between us, and will be
constantly rallying me about a confusion I cannot conceal, when I think
that you are watching me and suffering with every smile I give him. Oh,
John, I am very unhappy about it all.”
“And poor I am the cause of all. But, Lulie, you must not go. What will
they all think of your leaving so suddenly, when you came up to spend
the summer? I am afraid they will think there is something unpleasant
between you and Carlotta or myself. Lulie, if you will only stay, I
will promise not to be miserable, however loving you are to Frank, and
I will endeavor to arrange all our plans so that you will not be placed
in a single embarrassing situation.”
“Your motives are all kind, John, but I alone know how I will suffer by
remaining here. I must return, and I have called you now to ask that
you aid me to take my departure without any unpleasantness. I will make
it all right with Carlotta, and I want you to assure Mrs. Smith that
neither she nor any of the family have given me the slightest cause for
leaving. If it will make your explanation easier, you can even hint at
something between Frank and myself. Colonel Smith, you know, leaves day
after to-morrow for Havana, and, as he has to go through Wilmington, I
can go down with him.”
“So much the more reason for your not going. Father’s absence will make
it lonely here, and we cannot spare you.”
“Do not, dear John, persuade me any longer. I am positively determined.
Now, won’t you please help me to get off without so much surprise and
resistance on the part of others,” and she twisted one little finger
into the button-hole of my coat, and looked up at me with such earnest
entreaty in her eyes, that I readily promised to give her all the aid
in my power.
By way of fulfilling this promise, I sought an interview with mother,
and, after a little confidence in regard to Frank and myself, and by
hard persuasion, made her promise not to express more than conventional
surprise and regret at the announcement of Lulie’s intention. I had a
short talk with father to the same effect, while Lulie was alone with
Carlotta, down under the arbor; so that at the dinner table, when Lulie
proposed to accompany father to Wilmington, there was no great outcry
against it.
All expressed regret. Ned vowed it was a shame for her to leave just
as they reached here, and Frank simply smiled, but a smile so like a
sneer I could not tell whether he was pleased or otherwise with the
announcement.
After dinner we separated for our afternoon siesta, Frank, Ned and I
going up to our cool, large room, where, drawing our beds between the
windows, with a soft breeze playing over us, we enjoyed that prince of
luxuries, an afternoon nap. When we awoke, bathed, dressed, and went
down stairs, we found the sun quite low down the sky, and Ben Bemby out
in the front porch, with Carlotta and Lulie, who were both laughing at
his quaint remarks. I introduced my companions, Ned shaking him warmly
by the hand, Frank saying carelessly, with a stare, “How are you?” and
then, as they all proposed to go to the orchard for fruit, I excused
myself for a ride. Once upon Phlegon, my beautiful courser, flying
along through grass-bordered wood paths, now reining up on some hill
to get a view of the sunset, now pausing at a gurgling branch, down in
some valley, to see him lower his tapering neck and dip his spreading
nostrils in the bubbling waters, then on again, with freshened speed
and tighter rein, I almost forgot that Lulie did not love me.
That night, after the lamps were lit in the parlor, father came in and
declared we must lay aside all dignity and have a real romp. As he
agreed to join us we assented, and for hours the house sounded like
bedlam. Carlotta, at mother’s request, participated, and her beauty was
as much enhanced by the animation of the excitement as is a diamond
when it is brought to the light.
What a delightful thing is a romp in the country, when you can make
just as much noise as you please, and no one will care; when there is
no nervous old lady over the way, to send over and beg that you be more
quiet, as she has the headache; no simple minded policemen, to knock
at the door and inquire if there is a fire; no next door neighbor to
present you as a nuisance!
We fully enjoyed the rural privilege, and the old clock in the corner
had rung out its warning many times unheeded, when our games were
broken up, as far as the ladies were concerned, by the entrance of a
bat, for there are few things they are more genuinely afraid of than
a little leather-wing. Like the eyes of a well executed portrait, the
bat seems to follow you wherever you crouch in the room, and dips with
regular precision and nicety of distance at your head, however low you
bow it. Verily, the woman who can stand the flutter of its dusky wings
is a heroine, beside whom Daemeneta is insignificant! A broom and pair
of tongs soon secured its expulsion, and allowed Carlotta and Lulie to
return to the room. Taking up the lamp, and looking at the clock in the
sitting room, we found it late, and, bidding each other “good night,”
we went to our rooms.
“John,” said Frank, pushing off one boot with the toe of his other,
“Miss Rurleston is your sister now, I know, but you must excuse me for
saying she is superb. I’ll sw—— vow her eyes set me crazy. Lulie
ain’t a whiff to her. By the way,” he continued, getting up in his
stocking feet and shirt sleeves to stand before the mirror, while he
took off his collar and tie, “I wonder what put the little goose into
the notion of going home?”
“Frank,” said Ned, from the bed, where he had thrown himself, half
undressed, to cool off, “if you do claim Lulie as your sweetheart, you
shan’t speak of her so disrespectfully. She is an old friend of mine,
and I will defend her from any such epithets.”
“Well, parson,” returned Frank, sitting down on the other bed, “I will
call her the madam, or her highness, if you desire, but I do think it
is confounded shabby in her to leave us now. I’ll make up for it with
the black eyes, though. Excuse me again, ‘brother’ John.”
I felt that I could not trust myself to reply, and there was a silence
for a few minutes, during which Ned yawned, and slided off the bed to
his knees to say his prayers.
“Oh, John, I forgot to tell you,” said Frank, “that long, tow-headed
booby, who was here this evening, said he had a fine place for fishing
to-morrow, and we promised to go with him, if it did not conflict with
any of your plans.”
“Not at all,” said I, “but I must go down and tell mother, that she may
have breakfast early.”
“No; she already knows about it, and promised to have us up at sunrise.”
“Of course, I am in for anything you all say.”
“Let’s go to sleep,” said Ned, as he got up from his prayers, and fell
over on the bed. We let!