Despite his natural irritability, to which no one appeared to pay much
attention, Mr. Loring grew almost cordial under the geniality and
hopefulness emanating from Judge Clarkson, whom he was really very
glad to see, and of whom he had numberless queries to ask regarding
the hostilities of the past few months.
The enforced absence abroad had kept him in a highly nervous
condition, doing much to counteract the utmost care given him by the
most learned specialists of Europe. Half his fortune had been lost by
those opening guns at Sumter. His warehouses, piled with great cotton
bales for shipment to England, had been fired--burned to the ground.
The capture of Beaufort, near which was another plantation of his, had
made further wreck for him, financially, and whatever the foreign
doctors might to with his body, his mind was back in Carolina, eager,
questioning, combative. He was burning himself up with a fever of
anxiety.
"It is all of no use, Mademoiselle," said the most distinguished
specialist whom she had consulted, "Monsieur, your uncle will live for
many years if but the mind is composed--no shocks, no heavy loads to
carry. But the mind, you perceive--it is impossible for him to allow
himself to be composed away from his country. We have done all that
can be done here. To return to his own land under the care of a
competent physician, of course, would be now the best arrangement I
could suggest. He may live there for many years; here, he will most
certainly die."
At Loring's request Dr. Delaven was the physician who had been
approached with the proposal to accompany him to Carolina. Why, it
would be hard to guess, for they were totally unlike in every way--had
not, apparently, a single taste in common. But the physician in charge
of the hospital approved his judgment.
"It is a most wise one, Monsieur Loring. Dr. Delaven has shown as his
specialty cases similar to your own, and has proven most successful.
Withal, he is adventurous. He will enjoy the new country, and he is of
your own language. All I could do for you he can do, perhaps more; for
I am old, while he is young and alive with enthusiasms with which to
supplement his technical knowledge."
Gertrude only delayed their departure long enough to write Col.
McVeigh, who was in London. He secured for them transportation to
Nassau under the guardianship of an official who would take most
extreme care that the party be conveyed from there by some blockade
runner to be depended upon. And that the Federal blockade often failed
of its purpose was evidenced by the fact that they were quietly landed
one night in a little inlet south of Charleston, which they reached by
carriage, and rested there a few days before attempting the journey
overland.
The doctors were correct as to the beneficial results of the home
coming of Loring. It acted like a tonic and the thought of outwitting
the Yankees of that blockade pleased him immensely. He never gave a
thought to the girl who watched with pale face and sleepless eyes
through that dash for the shore. Delaven mentally called him a selfish
brute.
The visit of Judge Clarkson was partially an affair of business, but
after a private interview with Delaven he decided to dismiss all idea
of business settlements until later. Nothing of an annoying or
irritating nature must be broached to the convalescent just yet.
The Judge confessed that it was an affair over which Mr. Loring had
been deeply chagrined--a clear loss of a large sum of money, and
perhaps it would be safer, under the circumstances, to await Col.
McVeigh's return. Col. McVeigh was equally interested, and neither he
nor the Judge would consent to risk an attack similar to that
experienced by Mr. Loring during the bombardment of Port Royal
entrance. He was at that time on his Beaufort plantation, where the
blue coats overran his place after they landed, and it was known to
have been nothing else than a fit of rage at their victory, and rage
at the planters who fled on all sides of him, which finally ended in
the prostration for which the local physicians could find no remedy.
Then it was that Gertrude took him abroad, with the result described.
It was understood the prostration had taught him one useful lesson--he
no longer cultivated the rages for which he had been locally famous.
As he was unable to stamp and roar, he compromised on sneers and
caustic retorts, from which he appeared to derive an amount of
satisfaction tonical in its effects.
The Judge was giving Delaven the details of the Beaufort affair when
Ben wheeled his master into the room. There was an awkward pause, a
slight embarrassment, but he had caught the words "Port Royal
entrance," and comprehended.
"Huh! Talking over that disaster, Judge?" he remarked. "I tell you
what it is, you can't convey to a foreigner anything of the feeling of
the South over those misfortunes; to have Sherman's tramps go
rough-shod over your lawns and rest themselves with braggadocio at
your tables--the most infernal riff-raff--"
"One moment," interposed the Judge, blandly, with a view to check the
unpleasant reminiscences. "Did I not hear you actually praise one of
those Yankees?--in fact, assert that he was a very fine fellow?"
"Yes, yes; I had forgotten him. A Yankee captain; ordered the
blue-coats to the right-about when he found there was only a sick man
and a girl there; and more than that, so long as those scavengers were
ashore and parading around Beaufort he kept men stationed at my gates
for safeguard duty. A fine fellow, for a Yankee. I can only account
for it by the fact that he was a West Point graduate, and was thus
thrown, to a certain extent, into the society and under the influences
of our own men. Kenneth, Col. McVeigh, had known Monroe there--his
name was Monroe--Captain John Monroe--at Beaufort his own men called
him Captain Jack."
"Just as she was stepping on ship board:
'Your name I'd like to know?'
And with a smile she answered him,
'My name is Jack Monroe!'"
sang a fresh voice outside the window, and then the curtain was pushed
aside and Evilena's brown head appeared.
"I really could not help that, Mr. Loring," she said, laughingly. "The
temptation was too great. Did you never whistle 'Jack Monroe' when you
were a boy?"
"No, I can't say I ever did," he replied, testily.
"It's intensely interesting," she continued, seating herself on the
window sill and regarding him with smiling interest, made bold by the
presence of her champion, the Judge. "Aunt Sajane taught it to me, an
old, old sailor song. It's all about her sweetheart, Jack, not Aunt
Sajane's sweetheart, but the girl's. Her wealthy relatives separate
them by banishing him to the wars somewhere, and she dressed up in
boy's clothes to follow him.
"'She went unto a tailor
And dressed in men's array,
And thence unto a sailor
And paid her fare away.'"
recited Evilena, with uplifted finger punctuating the sentences.
"Wasn't she brave? Well, she found him, and they were married. There
are seven verses of it."
"I--I should think that quite enough," he remarked, dropping his head
forward and looking at her from under the overhanging brows. "Do you
mean to sing them all to me?"
"Perhaps, some day," she promised, showing all her teeth and dropping
the curtain.
"So now this couple's married,
Despite their bitter foe,
And she's back again in England
With her darling, Jack Monroe."
The two visitors laughed outright as this information was wafted to
them from the veranda, the old song growing more faint as the singer
circled the house in search of Gertrude.
"A true daughter of the South, Dr. Delaven," said the Judge, with a
tender cadence betraying how close to his heart was his pride in all
Southern excellence--"child and woman in one, sir--a charming
combination."
"Right you are, Judge, in that; may their numbers never be less."
Evilena had found Gertrude and at once confessed her daring.
"Don't know how I ever did have courage to pop my head in there. Aunt
Sajane--but he talked of Jack Monroe just as I passed the window, and
I pretended I thought he meant the old song (I do wonder if he
ever--ever sang or whistled?) Then I told him what it was all about,
and promised to sing it to him some day, and I know by the sort of
smile he had that he wanted to order me out of the room as he used to
when I was little."
"Lena, Lena!" and Gertrude shook her head admonishingly at the girl,
though she smiled at the recital.
"Oh, you are an angel, Gertrude; so you never have temptations to do
things for pure mischief. But I wish you'd tell me who this Jack
Monroe is."
"A Federal officer who was of service to us when Beaufort was taken."
"A _Yankee_!"--and her horror was absolute. "Well, I should not think
you'd accept service from such a person."
"Honey!" said Aunt Sajane, in mild chiding.
"We had no choice," said Gertrude, quietly; "afterwards we learned he
and Kenneth had been friends at West Point; so he was really a
gentleman."
"And in the _Yankee Army_?" queried the irrepressible. "Good-bye, Jack
Monroe, I shan't sing you again."
"You might be faithful to one verse for Gertrude's sake," ventured
Aunt Sajane.
"Gertrude's sake?"
"Why, yes; he protected them from the intrusion of the Yankees."
"Oh--h! Aunt Sajane, I really thought you were going to ferret out a
romance--a Romeo and Juliet affair--their families at war, and
themselves--"
"Evilena!"
"When Gertrude says 'Evilena' in _that_ tone I know it is time to
stop," said the girl, letting go the kitten she was patting, and
putting her arm around Gertrude. "You dear, sensible Gertrude, don't
mind one word I say; of course I did not mean it. Just as if we did
not have enough Romeos in our own army to go around."
The significant glance accompanying her words made Gertrude look
slightly conscious.
"You are a wildly romantic child," she said, smoothing the chestnut
tinted waves of the girl's hair, "and pray, tell us how many of our
military Romeos are singing 'Sweet Evilena,' and wearing your
colors?"
Dr. Delaven passed along the hall in time to hear this bantering
query, and came opposite the door when this true daughter of the South
was counting all the fingers of one pretty hand.
"Just make it a half dozen," he suggested, "for I'm wearing yet the
sunflower you gave me," and he pointed to the large daisy in his
buttonhole.
"No, I'm always honest with Gertrude, and she must have the true
number. We are talking of military men, and all others are barred
out."
"So you informed me the first day of our acquaintance," he assented,
arranging the daisy more to his liking.
"And I've never forgiven you for that first day," she retorted,
nodding her head in a way suggestive of some dire punishment waiting
for him in the future. "It was dreadful, the way he led me on to say
things, Aunt Sajane, for how was I to guess he was the doctor? I was
expecting a man like--well, like Dr. Allison, only more so; very
learned, very severe, with eye glasses through which he would examine
us as though we were new specimens discovered in the wilds of America.
I certainly did not expect to find a frivolous person who wore
daisies, and--oh!" as she caught a glimpse of some one coming up the
path from the landing--"there comes Nelse. Gertrude, _can't_ I have
him in here?"
"May I ask if Nelse is one of the five distinguished by your colors?"
asked Delaven.
"Nelse is distinguished by his own colors, which is a fine mahogany,
and he is the most interesting old reprobate in Carolina--a wizard, if
you please--a sure enough voodoo doctor, and the black historian of
the Salkahatchie. May I call him?"
"I really do not think uncle likes to have him around," said Gertrude,
dubiously; "still--oh, yes, call him if you like. Don't let him tire
you with his stories; and keep him out of uncle's way. He would be
sure to tell him about those late runaways."
"I promise to stand guard in that case myself, Miss Loring; for I have
a prejudice against allowing witch-doctors access to my patients."
Mrs. Nesbitt arose as if to follow Gertrude from the room, hesitated,
and resumed her chair.
"When I was a girl we young folks were all half afraid of Nelse--not
that he ever harmed any one," she confessed. "The colored folks said
he was a wizard, but I never did give credit to that."
"Aunt Chloe, she says he is!"
"Oh, yes; and Aunt Chloe sees ghosts, and talks with goblins, to hear
her tell the story; but that old humbug is just as much afraid of a
mouse as--as I am."
"Nelse is a free nigger," explained Evilena, turning from the window
after having motioned him to enter. "He was made free by his old
master, Marmaduke Loring, and the old rascal--I mean Nelse, bought
himself a wife, paid for her out of his jockey earnings, and when she
proved a disappointment what do you think he did?"
Delaven could not get beyond a guess, as the subject of her discourse
had just then appeared in the door.
He was a small, black man, quite old, but with a curious attempt at
jauntiness, as he made his three bows with his one hand on his breast,
the other holding his cane and a jockey cap of ancient fashion. It
contrasted oddly with the swallow-tailed coat he wore, which had
evidently been made for a much larger man; the sleeves came to his
finger tips, and the tails touched his heels. The cloth of which it
was made was very fine dark blue, with buttons of brass. His waistcoat
of maroon brocade came half way to his knees. Warm as the day was he
wore a broad tie of plaid silk arranged in a bow, above which a white
muslin collar rose to his ears. He was evidently an ancient beau of
the plantations in court dress.
"Yo' servant, Miss Sajane, Miss Lena; yo' servant, Mahstah," he said
with a bow to each. "I done come pay my respects to the family what
got back. I'm powerful glad to heah they got safe ovah that ocean."
"Oh, yes; you're very thankful when you wait two whole weeks before
you come around to say 'howdy.' Have you moved so far into the swamp
you can't even hear when the family comes home? Sit down, you're
tired likely. Tell us all the news from your alligator pasture."
"My king! Miss Lena, you jest the same tant'lizin' little lady. Yo'
growen' up don't make you outgrow nothen' but yo' clothes. My 'gatah
pasture? I show yo' my little patch some o' these days--show yo' what
kind 'gatahs pasture theah; why, why, I got 'nigh as many hogs as Mahs
Matt has niggahs these days."
"Yes, and he hasn't so many as he did have," remarked Mrs. Nesbitt,
significantly. "You know anything about where Scip and Aleck are
gone?"
"Who--me? Miss Sajane? You think I keep time on all the runaway boys
these days? They too many for me. It sutenly do beat all how they
scatter. Yo' all hear tell how one o' Cynthy's boys done run away,
too? Suah as I tell you--that second boy, Steve! Ole Mahs Masterson
got him dogs out fo' him--tain't no use; nevah touched the track once.
He'll nevah stop runnen' till he reach the Nawth an' freeze to death.
I alles tole Cynthy that Steve boy a bawn fool."
"Do you mean your son Steve, or your grandson?" queried Mrs. Nesbitt.
"No'm, 'taint little Steve; his mammy got too much sense to let him
go; but that gal, Cynthy--humph!" and his disdain of her perceptive
powers was very apparent.
"But, Uncle Nelse, just remember Aunt Cynthy must be upwards of
seventy. Steve is fifty if he is a day. How do you suppose she could
control him, even if she knew of his intention, which is doubtful."
"She nevah would trounce that rascal, even in his youngest days,"
asserted Nelse, earnestly; "and as the 'bush is bent the tree's
declined.' I use to kote that scripper to her many's the day, but how
much good it do to plant cotton seed on stony groun' or sow rice on
the high lan'? Jes' that much good scripper words done Cynthy, an' no
more."
His tone betrayed a sorrowful but impersonal regret over the
refractory Cynthia, and their joint offspring. Evilena laughed.
"Where did you get so well acquainted with the scripture, Nelse?" she
asked. "I know you never did learn it from your beloved old Mahs Duke
Loring. I want you to tell this gentleman all about the old racing
days. This is Dr. Delaven (Nelse made a profound bow). He has seen
great races abroad and hunted foxes in Ireland. I want you to tell him
of the bear hunts, and the horses you used to ride, and how you rode
for freedom. The race was so important, Dr. Delaven, that Marmaduke
Loring promised Nelse his freedom if he won it, and he had been
offered three thousand, five hundred dollars for Nelse, more than
once."
"Nevah was worth as much to myself as I was to Mahs Duke," said Nelse,
shaking his head. "I tell yo' true, freedom was a sure enough hoodoo,
far as I was concerned; nevah seemed to get so much out o' the horses
after I was my own man; nevah seemed to see so much money as I owned
befo', an' every plum thing I 'vested in was a failure from the start;
there was that gal o' Mahs Masterson's--that there Cynthy--"
The old man's garrulity was checked by the noiseless entrance of
Margeret. He gave a distinct start as he saw her.
"I--I s'lute yo', Miss Retta," he said, sweeping his cap along the
floor and bowing from where he sat. She glanced at him, bent her head
slightly in acknowledgment, but did not address him.
"Miss Loring asks to see you in the dining room, Mistress Nesbitt,"
she said softly; then drawing a blind where the sun was too glaring,
and opening another that the breeze might be more apparent, she passed
silently out.
The old man never spoke until she disappeared.
"My king!--she get mo' ghost-like every yeah, that Retta," he said,
while Evilena gathered up the ball of stocking yard and wound it for
Mrs. Nesbitt; "only the eyes o' that woman would tell a body who she
is, these days; seems like the very shape o' her face been changed
sence she--"
"Nelse," said Mrs. Nesbitt, a trifle sharply, "whatever you do you are
not to let Mr. Loring know about those runaways; maybe you better keep
out of his sight altogether this visit, for he's sure to ask questions
about everything, and the doctor's orders are that he is not to see
folks or have any business talks--you understand? and nothing ever
does excite him so much as a runaway."
"Oh, yes, Miss Sajane, I un'stan'; I'll keep out. Hearen' how things
was I jes' come down to see if Miss Gertrude needs any mo' help
looken' after them field niggahs. They nevah run away from _me_."
"Well"--and she halted doubtfully at the door--"I'll tell her. And if
you want Dr. Delaven to hear about the old racing days, honey, hadn't
you better take him into the library where the portraits are? I'm a
trifle uneasy lest Mr. Loring should take a notion to come in here.
Since he's commenced to walk a little he is likely to appear anywhere
but in the library. He never does seem to like the library corner."
Delaven glanced at the library walls as the three advanced thereto--walls
paneled in natural cedar, and hung with large gilt frames here and
there between the cases of books. "I should think any man would like a
room like this," he remarked, "especially when it holds one's own family
portraits. There is a picture most attractive--a fine make of a man."
"That Mahs Tom Loring, Miss Gertrude's father," explained Nelse. "Jest
as fine as he looks theah, Mahs Tom was, and ride!--king in heaven!
but he could ride. 'Taint but a little while back since he was killed,
twenty yeahs maybe--no, eighteen yeahs come Christmas. He was
followen' the houn's, close on, when his horse went down an' Mahs Tom
picked up dead, his naik broke. His wife, Miss Leo Masterson, she was,
she died some yeahs befo', when Miss Gertrude jest a little missy. So
they carried him home from Larue plantation--that wheah he get
killed--an' bury him back yonder beside her," and he pointed to a
group of pines across the field to the north; "so, after that--"
"Oh, Nelse, tell about live things--not dead ones," suggested Evilena,
"tell about the races and your Mahs Duke, how he used to go horseback
all the way to Virginia, to the races, and even to Philadelphia, and
how all the planters gathered for hundreds of miles, some of the old
ones wearing small clothes and buckled shoes, and how--"
"Seems like you done mind them things so well 'taint no use tryen' to
rake up the buried reck'lections o' the pas' times," said the old man,
rebukingly, and with a certain pomposity. "I reckon now you 'member
all the high quality gentlemen. The New Market Jockey Club, an' how
they use to meet reg'lar as clock-work the second Tuesday in May and
October; an' how my Mahs Duke, with all the fine ruffles down his
shirt front, an' his proud walk, an' his voice soft as music, an' his
grip hard as steel, was the kingpin o' all the sports--the grandest
gentleman out o' Calliny, an' carried his head high as a king ovah all
Jerusalem--I reckon you done mind all that theah, Miss Lena."
"I will, next time," laughed the girl, "go on, Nelse, we would rather
hear what you remember."
"I don't reckon the names o' the ole time sportin' gentlemen, an'
old time jockeys, an' old time stock, would count much with a
gentleman from foreign lan's," said the old man, with a deprecating
bow to Delaven. "But my Mahs Duke Loring nevah had less than six
horses in trainen' at once. I was stable-boy, an' jes' trained up
with the colts till Mahs Duke saw I could ride. I sartainly had
luck with racin' stock, seein' which he gave me clean charge o' the
whole racin' stable; 'sides which, keepen' my weight down to eighty
pounds let me in for the jockey work--them was days. I was sent ovah
into Kaintucky, an' up Nawth far as Long Island, to ride races fo'
otha gentlemen--friends o' Mahs Duke's, an' every big race I run put
nigh onto a hundred dollar plump into my own pocket. Money?--my
king! I couldn't see cleah how I evah could spend all the money I got
them days, cause I didn't have to spend a cent fo' clothes or feed,
an' I had mo' presents give to me by the quality folks what I
trained horses fer than I could count or reck'lect.
"The ride Miss Lena done tole yo' of--that happen the yeah Mahs Duke
imported Lawd Chester, half brother to Bonnie Bell, that won the
sweepstakes at Petersburg, an' sire o' Glenalven out o' Lady Clare,
who was owned by Mahs Hampton ovah in Kaintucky. Well, sah, the yeah
he imported Chester was the yeah he an' Mr. Enos Jackson had the
set-to 'bout their two-yeah-olds--leastwise the colts _seemed_ to be
the cause; but I don't mind tellen', now, that I nevah did take stock
in that notion, my own self. Women folks get mixed up even in race
fights an' I mind one o' the han'some high steppers o' Philadelphia
way down theah that time, an' Mistah Jackson he got a notion his
chances mighty good, till long come Mahs Duke an' glance out corner
of his eye, make some fine speeches, an'--farwell, Mistah Jackson!
Mistah Jackson wa'nt jes' what you'd call the highest quality, though
he did own powerful stretches o' lan'--three plantations in Nawth
Calliny, 'sides lots o' other property. He had a colt called Darker he
'lowed nothen' could keep in sight of, an' he _was_ good stuff--that
colt. Mistah Jackson would a had easy riden' fo' the stakes if me an'
Mahs Duke hadn't fetch Betty Pride up to show 'em what we could do.
Well, the upshot of it was that part on account o' that Nawthen
flirtatious young pusson what liked Mahs Duke the best, an' part on
account o' Betty Pride, Mistah Jackson act mighty mischievous-like,
an' twenty minutes afo' time was called I 'scovered that boy, Jim
Peters, what was to ride Betty Pride, had been drugged--jest a trifle,
not enough to leave him stupid--but too much to leave him ride, bright
as he need be that day. He said Mistah Jackson's stable boss had give
him a swallow o' apple jack, an' king heaven!--but Mahs Duke turn
white mad when I tole him. He say to Jim's brother Mose--Mose was his
body servant--'Moses, fetch me my pistols,' jest quiet like that;
'Moses, fetch me my pistols.' Whew!--but I was scared, an' I says,
'No, sah,' I says, 'Mahs Duke, fo' heaven's sake, don't stop the race,
an' I'll win it fo' you yet. Mistah Jackson betten nigh bout all he
own on Darker; get yo' frien's to take all bets fo' you, an' egg him
on. Betty Pride ain't been tampered with!--take my word fo' it, she'll
win even with my extra weight--now, Mahs Duke, fo' God's sake,' says
I, 'go out theah an' fool them rascals; don't let on you know 'bout
their trick; take all theah bets, an' trust me. I trained that colt,
an' we'll _win_, Mahs Duke--if we don't--well, sah, you can jest use
them pistols on _me_.' I mos' got down on my knees a' beggen' him,
an' his blue eyes, like steel, measuren' me an' weighen' my words,
then he said: 'I'll risk it, Nelse, but--heaven help yo' if yo' fail
me!'
"I knew good enough I'd need _some_ powerful help if I come in second,
fo' he had a monstrous temper, but kindest man you evah met when
things went his way. Well, jest as I was jumpen' into my clothes, an'
Mahs Duke had started to the ring, I called out, half joken: 'Oh, Mahs
Duke, I'm a dead niggah if I come in second, but what yo' gwine to
give me if I come in first?'
"He turned at that an' said, sharp an' quick an' decided--'Yo'
freedom, Nelse.' My king!--that made me shaky, I could scarce get into
my clothes. I knew he been offered big money fo' me, many's the time,
an' now I was gwine to get it all my own self.
"Mahs Duke done jes' like I begged him--kep' steady an' cool an' take
up all Mistah Jackson's bets, and _he_ was jest betten wild till he
saw who was on Betty Pride, an' I heah tell he come a nigh fainten'
when he got sight o' me; but Mahs Duke's look at 'im must a jes'
propped him up an' sort o' fo'ced him to brave it out till we come
aroun'. It was a sweepstakes an' repeat, an' Betty Pride come in
eighteen inches ahead, an' that Nawthen lady what conjure Mistah
Jackson so, she fastened roses in Betty Pride's bridle, an' gave me a
whole bouquet--with one eye on Mahs Duke all the time, of course, but
Lordy!--he wan't thinken' much about ladies jes' that minute. He won
ovah thousand dollars in money, 'sides two plantations off Mistah
Jackson, who nevah dared enter the jockey club aftah that day. An'
Mahs Duke was good as his word 'bout the freedom--he give it to me
right theah; that's my Mahs Duke."
"And a fine sort of a man he was, then," commented Delaven, looking
more closely at the strong, fine pictured face, and the bushy,
leonine shock of tawny hair and the eyes that smiled down with a
twinkle of humor in their blue depths. There was a slight likeness to
Matthew Loring in the heavy brows and square chin, but the smile of
the father was genial--that of the son, sardonic.
"Yes, sah," agreed Nelse, when comment was made upon the likeness,
"Mahs Matt favor him a mite, but none to speak of. Mahs Tom more like
him in natur'. Mahs Matt he done take mo' likeness to his gran'ma's
folks, who was French, from L'weesiana. A mighty sharp eye she got,
an' all my Mahs Duke's niggahs walk straight, I tell yo', when she
come a visiten' to we all. I heard tell how _her_ mother was some sort
o' great lady from French court, packed off to L'weesiana 'cause o'
some politics like they have ovah theah; an' in her own country she
was a princess or some high mightiness, an' most o' her family was
killed in some rebeloution--woman, too! All saved her was getten to
Orleans, an' _her_ daughter, she married ole Matthew Loring, the daddy
o' them all, so far back as I know."
The old man had warmed to his task, as floods of reminiscences came
sweeping through his memory. He grew more important, and let fall the
borrowed cloak of servility; his head was perched a little higher and
a trifle askew as he surveyed them. The reflected grandeur of past
days was on him, and in comparison modernity seemed common-place. All
these brilliant, dashing, elegant men and women of his youth were
gone. He was the only human echo left of their greatness, and his
diminutive person grew more erect as he realized his importance as a
landmark of the past.
"There!" said Evilena, triumphantly, "isn't that as interesting as
your Irish romances? Where would you find a landlord of England or
Ireland who would make a free gift of three thousand dollars to a
servant? They simply could not conceive of such generosity unless it
were the gift of a king or a prince, and then it would be put down in
their histories for all men to remember."
"True for you," assented Delaven, with the brogue he was fond of using
at times when with those elected to comradeship; "true for you, my
lady, but you folks who are kings and queens in your own right should
be a bit easy on the unfortunates who can be only subjects."
"They don't need to be subjects," she insisted; "they could assert
their independence just as we did."
"Oh, sometimes it isn't so bad--this being a subject. I've found life
rather pleasant down here in the South, where you are all in training
for the monarchy you mean to establish. I don't mind being a subject
at all, at all, if it's to the right queen."
"But we didn't come in here to talk politics," she said, hastily.
"Uncle Nelse, do tell Dr. Delaven about your freedom days, and all. He
is a stranger here and wants to learn all about the country and
customs. You've traveled, Nelse, so you can tell him a lot."
"Yes, reckon I could. Yes, sah, I done travelled considerable; the
onliest advantage I could conjure up in freedom was goen' wherever the
fit took me to go--jes' runnen' roun' loose. My king! I got good an'
tiahed runnen, I tell yo'. Went cleah out to the Mississippi river, I
did--spent all my money, an' started back barefoot, deed I did, an' me
worth three thousan' five hundred dollars! Nevah did know how little
sense I got till I was free to get myself in trouble if I liked, an'
didn't have no Mahs Duke to get me out again. More'n that, seem like I
done lost my luck some way--lost races I had no right to lose, till
seem like owners they got scary 'bout me, an' when I git far away from
my own stamping groun', seem like I wasn't no sort o' use at all. Bye
and bye I fell in with Judge Warner, who was a great friend o' Mahs
Dukes, and I jes' up an' tells him I done been conjured along o' that
freedom Mahs Duke done give me. My king!--how he did laugh. He offered
me a good berth down on his place, but I say, 'no, sah; all I want is
Mahs Duke an' old Calliny'; so he helps me to some races an' seems
like the very notion o' goen' home done fetch me good luck right off,
'cause I made good winnen' on his bay filly, Creole, an' soon as I got
some money I bid far'well to wanderen' an' made fo' home.
"I alles spishuned Mahs Duke know mo' 'bout my travels than he let on,
fo' he jes' laughed when he see me an' say: 'All right, Nelse, I been
looken' fo' you some time. Now if yo' done got yo' fill o' seen' the
world, 'spose yo' go down an' look at the new colt I got, an' take yo'
ole place in the stable. Yo' jes' got back in time to spruce up the
carriage team fo' my wedden'.
"Well, sah, yo' could a' knocked me down with a feathah. Mahs Duke was
thirty-five, an' ovah, an' had kep' his own bachelor place fo' ten
yeah, loose an' free. Then all at once a new family come down heah
from Marylan'. They was the Mastersons, an' a Miss Bar'bra Vaughn come
to visit them, an' it was all ovah with Mahs Duke. She jest won in a
walk--that little lady.
"An' he done took her all the way to Orleans fo' wedden' trip. I
didn't go 'long. I was done tired out with travel an' 'sides that, I'd
been riden' ovah an' back to the Masterson plantation fo' Mahs Duke
till I took up with a likely brown gal they fetched with them from up
Nawth, an' of all niggahs, Nawthen niggahs is the off-scourins o' the
yeath--copy aftah theh masters, I reckon, fo' all the real,
double-distilled quality folks I met up with in all my travels were
gentlemen o' the South, sah. Yes, sah, they may breed good quality
somewheahs up theah, but all o' them sent down heah as samples ain't
nowhars with the home-bred article, sah.
"But I didn't know all that them days, an' that Cynthy o' Mistah
Masterson's look mighty peart an' talk mighty knowen', an' seem like
as we both hed travelled considerable we both hed a heap of talk
'bout; an' the upshot of it was I felt boun' an' sot to buy that gal,
if so be they'd give me a fair chance an' plenty o' time. Well, sah, I
talk it ovah with Mahs Duke, an' he fix it so I can have Cynthy fo'
three hundred dollars.
"Seem like it's a mighty small price to ask fo' a likely young gal
like her, but I so conjured with the notion o' buyen' her I nevah
stopped to study into the reasons why o' things, special as I had part
o' the money right by me to pay; a pocket full o' money gets a man
into mo' trouble mostly than an empty one.
"Well, sah, I hadn't owned her no time, till I was mo' sot in my mind
than evah as how freedom was a hoodoo. If I hadn't been free I'd nevah
took the notion to have a free wife o' my own, an' I'd a been saved a
lot o' torment, _I_ tell yo'.
"She jest no good no how--that Cynthy. How they got work out o' her
ovah on the Masterson plantation I don't know, fo' _I_ couldn't. Think
she'd even cook vittels fo' her own self if she could help it? No,
sah! She too plum lazy. She jes' had a notion that bein' free meant
doen' nothen' 'tall fo' no body. It needed a whole meeten' house full
o' religion to get along with that gal, 'thout cussen' at her, an' as
I'd done trained in the race course an' not in a pulpit, seem like I
noways fit for the 'casion. But I devilled along with her for three
yeahs, and she had two boys by that time--didn't make no sort o'
difference. She got worse 'stead o' better o' her worthlessness, but
I tried to put up with it till she jest put the cap sheaf on the hull
business by getten' religion up thah in the gum tree settlement, an' I
drew the line at that, _I_ tell yo.' Thah she was, howlen' happy every
night in the week 'long-side o' Brother Peter Mosely. Brother Mosely's
wife didn't seem to favah their religion no more'n I did; so, seen' as
I couldn't follow roun' aftah her with a hickory switch, an' couldn't
keep her home or at work no othah way, I just got myself a divorce,
an' settled down alone on a patch o' lan' I bought o' Mahs Duke, an' I
kep' on looken' aftah his stables long as he kept any. He died just
afore young Mahs Tom married Miss Leo Masterson."
"But what of the divorce? Did it improve her religion or cure her
laziness?" asked Delaven, who found more of novelty in the black man's
affairs than the master's.
"Who--Cinthy? I just sold her right back to Mistah John Masterson fo'
twenty-five dollar less than I paid, an' the youngsters they went into
the bargain; fo' I tell yo', sah, them Nawthen niggahs is bad stock to
manage--if they's big or little; see what happened that Steve o' hern;
done run off, he has, an' him ole enough to know bettah. Oh, yes, sah,
I up an' I sold the whole batch; that how come I get my money back fo'
her, an' stock my little patch o' groun'. Yes, sah, she got scared an'
settle down when I done sold her back again. Mahs Masterson he got mo'
work out o' her than I could; he knew mo' 'bout managen' them Nawthen
niggahs."
"Wouldn't he be a find for those abolitionists?" asked Evilena,
laughing. "Nelse, you've been very entertaining, and if your Miss
Gertrude needs you to stay about the place we'll steal hours to hear
about old times."
"Thanky, Miss Lena; yo' servant, sah; it sartainly does do me good to
get in heah an' see all these heah faces again--mighty fine they are.
I mind when some o' them was painted. Mahs Duke's was done in Orleans;
so was Miss Bar'bra, it's in the parlah. But Mahs Tom--he had an
artis' painter come down from Wash'nton to do Miss Gertrude's, once
when she just got ovah sick spell--he scared lest she die an' nevah
have no likeness; her ma, she died sudden that-a-way. We all use to
think it bad luck to get likenesses; I nevah had none; Mahs Matt nevah
had none; an' we're a liven' yet. All the rest had 'em took an' wheah
are they?"
"Now, Uncle Nelse, you don't mean to say it shortens people's lives to
have their picture taken?"
"Don't like to say, Miss Lena, but curious things do happen in this
world. That artist man, his name, Mistah Madden, he made Mahs Tom's
likeness, an' Mahs Tom got killed! An' all time Mahs Tom's likeness
was bein' done, an' all time Miss Gertrude's was a doin', that Mistah
Madden he just go 'stracted to paint one o' Retta to take 'way with
him. All the niggahs jest begged her not to let him, but she only
laughed--she laughed most o' the time them days; an' Mahs Tom he sided
with Mistah Madden, so she give consent, an' he painted two--one
monstrous big one to take 'way with him, an' then a teeny one fo' a
breastpin; he give it to Retta 'cause she set still an' let him make
the big one. An' now what happened? Within a yeah Mahs Tom, he was
killed, an' Retta Caris, she about died o' some crazy brain fever, an'
it was yeahs afore she knew her own name again; yes, went 'wildered
like--she did; an' that's what two likenesses done to my sutain
knowledge."
"Then I've hoodooed Dr. Delaven, for I made a pencil picture of him
only this morning."
"And if I should fall down stairs, or into the Salkahatchie, you will
know the primal reason for it."
Old Nelse shook his head at such frivolity.
"Jes' 'cause you all ain't afraid don't take yo' no further off
danger," he said, soberly. Then he followed Evilena to the kitchen,
where his entrance was greeted with considerable respect. When Nelse
appeared at Loringwood in his finest it was a sort of state affair in
the cook house. He was an honored guest with the grown folks, because
the grandeurs he had witnessed and could tell of, and he was a cause
of dread to the pickaninnies who were often threatened with banishment
to the Unc. Nelse glade, and they firmly believed he immediately sold
all the little darkies who put foot in his domain.
"Isn't he delightfully quaint?" asked the girl, rejoining Delaven.
"Gertrude never does seem to find him interesting; but I do. She has
been used to him always, of course, and I haven't, and she thinks it
was awful for him to sell Cynthia, just because she got religion and
would not behave. Now, I think it's funny; don't you?"
"Your historian has given me so many side-lights on slavery that I'm
dazzled with the brilliancy of them; whether serious or amusing, it is
astonishing."
"Only to strangers," said the girl; "to us they are never puzzling;
they are only grown-up children--even the wisest--and need to be
managed like children. Those crazy abolitionists should hear Nelse on
the 'hoodoo' of freedom; I fancy he would astonish them."
"Not the slightest doubt of it," agreed Delaven, who usually did agree
with Evilena--except when argument would prolong a tete-a-tete.