On the next day, old Aunt Patsy was buried. Mrs Keswick and Annie
attended the ceremonies in the cabin, but they did not go to the
burial. After a time, it might be in a week or two, or it might be in
a year, the funeral sermon would be preached in the church, and they
would go to hear that. Aunt Patsy never finished her crazy quilt,
several pieces being wanted to one corner of it; but in the few days
preceding her burial two old women of the congregation, with trembling
hands and uncertain eyes, sewed in these pieces, and finished the
quilt, in which the body of the venerable sister was wrapped,
according to her well-known wish and desire. It is customary among the
negroes to keep the remains of their friends a very short time after
death, but Aunt Patsy had lived so long upon this earth that it was
generally conceded that her spirit would not object to her body
remaining above ground until all necessary arrangements should be
completed, and until all people who had known or heard of her had had
an opportunity of taking a last look at her. As she had been so very
well known to almost everybody's grandparents, a good many people
availed themselves of this privilege.
After Mrs Keswick's return from Aunt Patsy's cabin, where, according
to her custom, she made herself very prominent, it was noticeable that
she had dropped some of the grave reserve in which she had wrapped
herself during the preceding day. It was impossible for her, at least
but for a very short time, to act in a manner unsuited to her nature;
and reserve and constraint had never been suited to her nature. She,
therefore, began to speak on general subjects in her ordinary free
manner to the various persons in her house; but it must not be
supposed that she exhibited any contrition for the outrageous way in
which she had spoken to Annie and Lawrence, or gave them any reason
to suppose that the laceration of their souls on that occasion was a
matter which, at present, needed any consideration whatever from her.
An angel, born of memory and imagination, might come to her from
heaven, and so work upon her superstitious feelings as to induce her
to stop short in her course of reckless vengeance; but she would not,
on that account, fall upon anybody's neck, or ask forgiveness for
anything she had done to anybody. She did not accuse herself, nor
repent; she only stopped. "After this," she said, "you all can do as
you please. I have no further concern with your affairs. Only don't
talk to me about them."
She told Lawrence, in a manner that would seem to indicate a moderate,
but courteous, interest in his welfare, that he must not think of
leaving her house until his ankle had fully recovered its strength;
and she even went so far as to suggest the use of a patent lotion
which she had seen at the store at Howlett's. She resumed her former
intercourse with Annie, but it seemed impossible for her to entirely
forget the deception which that young lady had practised upon her. The
only indication, however, of this resentment was the appellation which
she now bestowed upon her niece. In speaking of her to Lawrence, or
any of the household, she invariably called her "the late Mrs Null,"
and this title so pleased the old lady that she soon began to use it
in addressing her niece. Annie occasionally remonstrated in a manner
which seemed half playful, but was in fact quite earnest, but her aunt
paid no manner of attention to her words, and continued to please
herself by this half-sarcastic method of alluding to her niece's
fictitious matrimonial state.
Letty, and the other servants, were at first much astonished by the
new title given to Miss Annie, and the only way in which they could
explain it was by supposing that Mr Null had gone off somewhere and
died; and although they could not understand why Miss Annie should
show so little grief in the matter, and why she had not put on
mourning, they imagined that these were customs which she had learned
in the North.
Lawrence advised Annie to pay no attention to this whim of her aunt.
"It don't hurt either of us," he said, "and we ought to be very glad
that she has let us off so easily. But there is one thing I think you
ought to do; you should write to your cousin Junius, and tell him of
our engagement; but I would not refer at all to the other matter; you
are not supposed to have anything to do with it, and Miss March can
tell him as much about it as she chooses, Mr Keswick wrote me that he
was going to Midbranch, and that he would communicate with me while
there, but, as I have not since heard from him, I presume he is still
in Washington."
A letter was, therefore, written by Annie, and addressed to Junius,
in Washington, and Lawrence drove her to the railroad station in the
spring-wagon, where it was posted. The family mail came bi-weekly to
Howlett's, as the post-office at the railroad station was entirely too
distant for convenience; and as Saturday approached it was evident,
from Mrs Keswick's occasional remarks and questions, that she expected
a letter. It was quite natural for Lawrence and Annie to surmise that
this letter was expected from Miss March, for Mrs Keswick had not
heard of any rejoinder having been made to her epistle to that lady.
When, late on Saturday afternoon, the boy Plez returned from
Howlett's, Mrs Keswick eagerly took from him the well-worn
letter-bag, and looked over its contents. There was a letter for her
and from Midbranch, but the address was written by Junius, not by Miss
March. There was another in the same hand-writing for Annie. As
the old lady looked at the address on her letter, and then on its
post-mark, she was evidently disappointed and displeased, but she said
nothing, and went away with it to her room. Annie's letter was in
answer to the one she had sent to Washington, which had been promptly
forwarded to Midbranch where Junius had been for some days. It began
by expressing much surprise at the information his cousin had given
him in regard to her assumption of a married title, and although she
had assured him she had very good reasons, he could not admit that it
was right and proper for her to deceive his aunt and himself in this
way. If it were indeed necessary that other persons should suppose
that she were a married woman, her nearest relatives, at least, should
have been told the truth.
At this passage, Annie, who was reading the letter aloud, and Lawrence
who was listening, both laughed. But they made no remarks, and the
reading proceeded.
Junius next alluded to the news of his cousin's engagement to Mr
Croft. His guarded remarks on this subject showed the kindness of his
heart. He did not allude to the suddenness of the engagement, nor to
the very peculiar events that had so recently preceded it; but reading
between the lines, both Annie and Lawrence thought that the writer had
probably given these points a good deal of consideration. In a general
way, however, it was impossible for him to see any objection to such
a match for his cousin, and this was the impression he endeavored to
give in a very kindly way, in his congratulations. But, even here,
there seemed to be indications of a hope, on the part of the writer,
that Mr Croft would not see fit to make another short tack in his
course of love.
Like the polite gentleman he was, Mr Keswick allowed his own affairs
to come in at the end of the letter. Here he informed his cousin that
his engagement with Miss March had been renewed, and that they were to
be married shortly after Christmas. As it must have been very plain to
those who were present when Miss March left his aunt's house, that she
left in anger with him, he felt impelled to say that he had explained
to her the course of action to which she had taken exception, and
although she had not admitted that that course had been a justifiable
one, she had forgiven him. He wished also to say at this point that
he, himself, was not at all proud of what he had done.
"That was intended for me," interrupted Lawrence.
"Well, if you understand it, it is all right," said Annie.
Junius went on to say that the renewal of his engagement was due, in
great part, to Miss March's visit to his aunt; and to a letter she had
received from her. A few days of intercourse with Mrs Keswick, whom
she had never before seen, and the tenor and purpose of that letter,
had persuaded Miss March that his aunt was a person whose mind had
passed into a condition when its opposition or its action ought not to
be considered by persons who were intent upon their own welfare. His
own arrival at Midbranch, at this juncture, had resulted in the happy
renewal of their engagement.
"I don't know Junius half as well as I wish I did," said Annie, as she
finished the letter, "but I am very sure, indeed, that he will make
a good husband, and I am glad he has got Roberta March--as he wants
her."
"Did you emphasize 'he'?" asked Lawrence.
"I will emphasize it, if you would like to hear me do it," said she.
"It's very queer," remarked Annie, after a little pause, "that
I should have been so anxious to preserve poor Junius from your
clutches, and that, after all I did to save him, I should fall into
those clutches myself."
Whereupon Lawrence, much to her delight, told her the story of the
anti-detective.
Mrs Keswick sat down in her room, and read her letter. She had no
intention of abandoning her resolution to let things go as they would;
and, therefore, did not expect to follow up, with further words or
actions, anything she had written in her letter to Roberta March. But
she had had a very strong curiosity to know what that lady would say
in answer to said letter, and she was therefore disappointed and
displeased that the missive she had received was from her nephew, and
not from Miss March. She did not wish to have a letter from Junius.
She knew, or rather very much feared, that it would contain news which
would be bad news to her, and although she was sure that such news
would come to her sooner or later, she was very much averse to
receiving it.
His letter to her merely touched upon the points of Mrs Null, and his
cousin's engagement to Mr Croft; but it was almost entirely filled
with the announcement, and most earnest defence, of his own engagement
to Roberta March. He said a great deal upon this subject, and he said
it well. But it is doubtful if his fervid, and often affectionate,
expressions made much impression upon his aunt. Nothing could make the
old lady like this engagement, but she had made up her mind that he
might do as he pleased, and it didn't matter what he said about it; he
had done it, and there was an end of it.
But there was one thing that did matter: That unprincipled and
iniquitous old man Brandon had had his own way at last; and she and
her way had been set aside. This was the last of a series of injuries
to her and her family with which she charged Mr Brandon and his
family; but it was the crowning wrong. The injury itself she did not
so much deplore, as that the injurer would profit by it. Arrested
in her course of raging passion by a sudden flood of warm and
irresistible emotion, she had resigned, as impetuously as she had
taken them up, her purposes of vengeance, and consequently, her plans
for her nephew and niece. But she was a keen-minded, as well as
passionate old woman, and when she had considered the altered state
of affairs, she was able to see in it advantages as well as
disappointment and defeat. From what she had learned of Lawrence
Croft's circumstances and position, and she had made a good many
inquiries on this subject of Roberta March, he was certainly a good
match for Annie; and, although she hated to have anything to do with
Midbranch, it could not be a bad thing for Junius to be master of that
large estate, and that Mr Brandon had repeatedly declared he would be,
if he married Roberta. Thus, in the midst of these reverses, there was
something to comfort her, and reconcile her to them. But there was no
balm for the wound caused by Mr Brandon's success and her failure.
With the letter of Junius open in her hand, she sat, for a long time,
in bitter meditation. At length a light gradually spread itself over
her gloomy countenance. Her eyes sparkled; she sat up straight in her
chair, and a broad smile changed the course of the wrinkles on her
cheeks. She arose to her feet; she gave her head a quick jerk of
affirmation; she clapped one hand upon the other; and she said aloud:
"I will bless, not curse!"
And with that she went happy to bed.