The warm summer moon wheeled up that evening through the dusk, odorous
with the wild luxuriance of wood and swamp growths. A carriage rolled
along the highway between stretches of rice lands and avenues of
pines.
In the west red and yellow showed where the path of the sun had been
and against it was outlined the gables of an imposing structure, dark
against the sky.
"We are again close to the Salkahatchie," said Mrs. McVeigh, pointing
where the trees marked its course, "and across there--see that roof,
Marquise?--that is Loringwood. If the folks had got across from
Charleston we would stop there long enough to rest and have a bit of
supper. But the road winds so that the distance is longer than it
looks, and we are too near home to stop on such an uncertainty.
Gertrude's note from Charleston telling of their safe arrival could
say nothing definite of their home coming."
"That, no doubt, depends on the invalid relative," suggested her
guest; "the place looks very beautiful in this dim light; the cedars
along the road there are magnificent."
"I have heard they are nearly two hundred years old. Years ago it was
the great show place of the country, but two generations of very
extravagant sportsmen did much to diminish its wealth--generous,
reckless and charming men--but they planted mortgages side by side
with their rice fields. Those encumbrances have, I fancy, prevented
Gertrude from being as fond of the place as most girls would be of so
fine an ancestral home."
"Possibly she lacks the gamester blood of her forefathers and can have
no patience with their lack of the commercial instinct."
"I really do believe that is just it," said Mrs. McVeigh. "I never had
thought of it in that way myself, but Gertrude certainly is not at all
like the Lorings; she is entirely of her mother's people, and they are
credited with possessing a great deal of the commercial instinct. I
can't fancy a Masterson gambling away a penny. They are much more
sensible; they invest."
The cedar avenues had been left a mile behind, and they had entered
again the pine woods where even the moon's full radiance could only
scatter slender lances of light. The Marquise leaned back with
half-shut slumberous eyes, and confessed she was pleased that it would
be later, instead of this evening, that she would have the pleasure of
meeting the master and mistress of Loringwood--the drive through the
great stretches of pine had acted as a soporific; no society for the
night so welcome as King Morpheus.
The third woman in the carriage silently adjusted a cushion back of
Madame's head. "Thank you, Louise," she said, yawning a little. "You
see how effectually I have been mastered by the much remarked languor
of the South. It is delightfully restful. I cannot imagine any one
ever being in a hurry in this land."
Mrs. McVeigh smiled and pointed across the field, where some men were
just then running after a couple of dogs who barked vociferously in
short, quick yelps, bespeaking a hot trail before them.
"There is a living contradiction of your idea," she said; "the
Southerners are intensity personified when the game is worth it; the
game may be a fox chase or a flirtation, a love affair or a duel, and
our men require no urging for any of those pursuits."
They were quite close to the men now, and the Marquise declared they
were a perfect addition to the scene of moonlit savannas backed by the
masses of wood now near, now far, across the levels. Two of them had
reached the road when the carriage wheels attracted attention from the
dogs, and they halted, curious, questioning.
"Why, it's our Pluto!" exclaimed Mrs. McVeigh; "stop the carriage.
Pluto, what in the world are you doing here?"
Pluto came forward smiling, pleased.
"Welcome home, Mrs. McVeigh. I'se jest over Loringwood on errend with
yo' all letters to Miss Lena an' Miss Sajane. Letters was stopped long
time on the road someway; yo' all get here soon most as they did.
Judge Clarkson--he aimen' to go meet yo' at Savannah--start in the
mawning at daybreak. He reckoned yo' all jest wait there till some one
go fo' escort."
"Evilena is at Loringwood, you say? Then Miss Loring and her uncle
have got over from Charleston?"
"Yes, indeedy!--long time back, more'n a week now since they come.
Why, how come you not hear?--they done sent yo' word; I _know_ Miss
Lena wrote you, 'cause she said so. Yes'm, the folks is back, an' Miss
Sajane an' Judge over there this minute; reckon they'll feel mighty
sorry yo' all passed the gate."
"Oh, but the letter never reached me. I had no idea they were home,
and it is too far to go back I suppose? How far are we from the house
now?"
"Only 'bout a mile straight 'cross fields like we come after that
'possum, but it's a good three miles by the road."
"Well, you present my compliments and explain the situation to Miss
Loring and the Judge. We will drive on to the Terrace. Say I hope to
see them all soon as they can come. Evilena can come with you in the
morning. Tell Miss Gertrude I shall drive over soon as I am rested a
little--and Mr. Loring, is he better?"
"Heap better--so Miss Gertrude and the doctor say. He walks roun'
some. Miss Gertrude she mightily taken with Dr. Delaven's cure--she
says he jest saved Mahs Loring's life over there in France."
"Dr. Delaven!" uttered the voice of the Marquise, in soft surprise--"_our_
Dr. Delaven?" and as she spoke her hand stole out and touched that of
the handsome serving woman she called Louise; "is he also a traveller
seeking adventure in your South?"
"Did I not tell you?" asked Mrs. McVeigh. "I meant to. Gertrude's note
mentioned that her uncle was under the care of our friend, the young
medical student, so you will hear the very latest of your beloved
Paris."
"Charming! It is to be hoped he will visit us soon. This little
woman"--and she nodded towards Louise--"must be treated for
homesickness; you observe her depression since we left the cities? Dr.
Delaven will be an admirable cure for that."
"Your Louise will perhaps cure herself when she sees a home again,"
remarked Mrs. McVeigh; "it is life in a carriage she has perhaps grown
tired of."
"Madame is pleased to tease me as people tease children for being
afraid in the dark," explained Louise. "I am not afraid, but the
silence does give one a chill. I shall be glad to reach the door of
your house."
"And we must hasten. Remember all the messages, Pluto; bring your Miss
Lena tomorrow and any of the others who will come."
"I remember, sure. Glad I was first to see yo' all back--good night."
The other colored men in the background had lost all interest in the
'possum hunt, and were intent listeners to the conversation. Old
Nelse, who had kept up to the rest with much difficulty, now pushed
himself forward for a nearer look into the carriage. Mrs. McVeigh did
not notice him. But he startled the Marquise as he thrust his white
bushy head and aged face over the wheel just as they were starting,
and the woman Louise drew back with a gasp of actual fear.
"What a stare he gave us!" she said, as they rolled away from the
group by the roadside. "That old man had eyes like augers, and he
seemed to look through me--may I ask if he, also, is of your
plantation, Madame?"
"Indeed, he is not," was Mrs. McVeigh's reassuring answer. "But he did
not really mean to be impertinent; just some childish old 'uncle' who
is allowed special privileges, I suppose. No; you won't see any one
like that at the Terrace. I can't think who it could be unless it is
Nelse, an old free man of Loring's; and Nelse used to have better
manners than that, but he is very old--nearly ninety, they say. I
don't imagine he knows his own age exactly--few of the older ones
do."
Pluto caught the old man by the shoulder and fairly lifted him out of
the road as the carriage started.
"What the matter with yo', anyway, a pitchen' yo'self 'gainst the
wheel that-a-way?" he demanded. "Yo' ain't boun' and sot to get run
over, are yo'?"
Some of the other men laughed, but Nelse gripped Pluto's hand as
though in need of the support.
"Fo' God!--thought I seen a ghost, that minute," he gasped, as the
other men started after the dogs again; "the ghost of a woman what
ain't dead yet--the ghost o' Retta."
"Yo' plum crazy, ole man," said Pluto, disdainfully. "How the ghost o'
that Marg'ret get in my mistress carriage, I like to know?--'special
as the woman's as live as any of us. Yo' gone 'stracted with all the
talken' 'bout that Marg'ret's story. Now, _I_ ain't seen a mite of
likeness to her in that carriage at all, I ain't."
"That 'cause yo' ain't nevah see Retta as she used to be. I tell yo'
if her chile Rhoda alive at all I go bail she the very likeness o'
that woman. My king! but she done scairt me."
"Don't yo' go talk such notions to any other person," suggested Pluto.
"Yo' get yo'self in trouble when yo' go tellen' how Mrs. McVeigh's
company look like a nigger, yo' mind! Why, that lady the highest kind
o' quality--most a queen where she comes from. How yo' reckon Mrs.
McVeigh like to hear such talk?"
"Might'nt a' been the highest quality one I meant," protested Nelse,
strong in the impression he had received; "it wa' the othah one,
then--the one in a black dress."
All three occupants of the carriage had worn dark clothes, in the
night all had looked black. Nelse had only observed one closely; but
Pluto saw a chance of frightening the old man out of a subject of
gossip so derogatory to the dignity of the Terrace folks, and he did
not hesitate to use it.
"What other one yo' talken' 'bout?" he demanded, stopping short, "my
Mistress McVeigh?"
"Naw!--think me a bawn fool--you? I mean the _otha_ one--the number
three lady."
"This here moonlight sure 'nough make you see double, ole man," said
Pluto, with a chuckle. "Yo' better paddle yo'self back to your own
cabin again 'stead o' hunten' ghost women 'round Lorin'wood, 'cause
there wan't only two ladies in that carriage--two _live_ ladies," he
added, meaningly, "an' one o' them was my mistress."
"Fo' Gawd's sake!"
The old man appeared absolutely paralyzed by the statement. His eyes
fairly bulged from their sockets. He opened his lips again, but no
sound came; a grin of horror was the only describable expression on
his face. All the superstition in his blood responded to Pluto's
suggestion, and when he finally spoke it was in a ghostly whisper.
"I--I done been a looken' for it," he gasped, "take me home--yo'! It's
a sure 'nough sign! Last night ole whippo'will flopped ovah my head.
Three nights runnen' a hoot owl hooted 'fore my cabin. An' now the
ghost of a woman what ain't dead yet, sot there an' stare at me! I
ain't entered fo' no mo' races in this heah worl', boy; I done covah
the track fo' las' time; I gwine pass undah the line at the jedge
stan', I tell yo'. I got my las' warnen'--I gwine home!"