When Pluto brought her mail, an hour later, he tried to express more
clearly in words the utter happiness showing through every feature of
his dark face, but she stopped him with a little gesture.
"I see you are glad--no need to tell it," she remarked, briefly; "if
you want to thank me do it by helping any of your people whom you find
in trouble. There are many of them, no doubt."
And when Mrs. McVeigh thanked her for doing what she could not have
done on such short notice, Judithe put the question aside quite as
lightly.
"The man is a very good groom," she remarked. "I enjoyed my ride the
more today for having him along to answer all my curious questions of
the country. I meant to give him 'backsheesh,' as the Orientals call
it, so why not select what the fellow most wants--even though it be a
pickaninny?"
"Well, he certainly is singing your praises down in the cook-house. I
even heard several 'hallelujas' from Aunt Dilsey's particular corner.
Judge Clarkson has endorsed the check and will send a white man
horseback with it to Larues in the morning. Pluto starts tonight on
foot across country--says he can't sleep, any way--he's so happy. The
women are arguing already as to which shall have the special care of
Zekal. Altogether, you have created a sensation in the household, and
we all love you for it."
"What further recompense to be desired? It really is not worth so much
of praise."
"Kenneth will not think so when he comes home," and Kenneth's mother
slipped her arm around the girl's shoulder affectionately, not
noticing how her careless expression changed at mention of the name.
"Oh! Will he, then, be interested in such small things as pickaninnies?"
and her light words belied the look in her eyes.
"Will he? Well, I should think so! You have done just what he would
want done--what he would do if it were possible. For two generations
the McVeighs have neither bought nor sold slaves"--Judithe's eyes shot
one disdainful flash--"just kept those inherited; but I'm sure that
boy of mine would have broken the rule for his generation in this
case, and he'll be so grateful to you for it. Pluto was his playmate
and respected monitor as a child, and Pluto's Zekal certainly will
have a place in his affections."
Judithe picked up one of several letters, over which she had glanced,
and remarked that she would expect a visitor within a week--possibly
in a day or two, the master of her yacht, which from a letter
received, she learned had reached Savannah before Louise. A storm had
been encountered somewhere along the southern coast, and he would
submit the list of damages--not heavy, yet needing a certain amount of
refitting.
"Fortunate Louise did go down," she said, with a certain satisfaction,
as she laid down the communication. "She will be perfectly happy, even
hobbling around with a cane, if she is only buying things; she
delights in spending money;" then, after a pause, "I presume Col.
McVeigh's return is still uncertain?"
"Yes, rather; yet I fancy each morning he will come before night, and
each night that he may waken me in the morning. I have been living in
that delightful hopefulness for a week."
Lena called them and they went out to the rustic seat circling the
great live oak at the foot of the steps. The others were there, and
the Judge was preparing to drive the three miles home with his sister.
Now that the invalid was better, and the wanderer returned from
Mobile, Aunt Sajane bethought herself of the possible sixes and sevens
of her own establishment, and drove away with promises of frequent
visits on both sides.
Long after the others had retired for the night Judithe's light
burned, and there was little of the careless butterfly of fashion
in her manner as she examined one after another of the letters brought
her by the last mail, and wrote replies to some she meant to take to
the office herself during her early morning ride; it was so
delightful to have an errand, and Pluto had shown her the road.
After all the others were done she picked up again the communication
she had shown to Mrs. McVeigh--the report from the yacht master, and
from the same envelope extracted a soft silken slip of paper with
marks peculiar--apparently mere senseless scratches of a thoughtless
pen, but it was over that paper and the reply most of the evening
was spent. It was the most ancient method of secret writing known
to history, yet, apparently, so meaningless that it might pass
unnoticed even by the alert, or be turned aside as the ambitious
scrawlings of a little child.
Each word as deciphered she had pencilled on a slip of paper, and when
complete it read:
"Courant brings word McV. is likely to be of special interest. If he
travels with guard we can't interfere on road from coast, and you
will be only hope. A guard of Federals will be landed north of
Beaufort and await your orders. Messenger will communicate soon as
movements are known. You may expect Pierson. We await your orders or
any suggestions."
There was no signature. Her orders or suggestions were written in the
same cipher, and required much more time and thought than had been
given to the buying and freeing of Pluto's pickaninny, after which she
destroyed all unnecessary writings, and retired with the satisfied
feeling of good work done and better in prospect, and in a short time
was sleeping the calm, sweet sleep of a conscienceless child.
She rode even further next morning than she had the preceding day,
when Pluto was her guide, and she rode as straight east as she could
go towards the coast. When she met colored folk along the road she
halted, and spoke with them, to their great delight. She asked of the
older ones where the road led to, and were the pine woods everywhere
along it, and what about swamps and streams to ford, etc., etc.
Altogether, she had gained considerable knowledge of that especial
territory by the time she rode back to the Terrace and joined the rest
at the late breakfast. She had been in the saddle since dawn, and
recounted with vivacity all the little episodes of her solitary
constitutional; the novelty of it was exhilarating. That it appeared a
trifle eccentric to a Southerner did not suggest itself to her; all
her eccentricities were charming to the McVeigh household, and Delaven
lamented he had not been invited as proxy for Pluto, and amused the
breakfast party by anecdotes of hunting days in Ireland, and the
energy and daring of the ladies who rode at dawn there.
Several times during the day Judithe attempted to have a tete-a-tete
with Mrs. McVeigh, and learn more about Miss Loring's silent maid,
who was the first person she saw on her return from the ride that
morning. The absolute self-effacement of an individual whose repose
suggested self-reliance, and whose well shaped head was poised so
admirably as to suggest pride, made the sad-faced servant a
fascinating personality to any one interested in questions concerning
her race. No other had so won her attention since she made compact
with Kora in Paris.
But Mistress McVeigh was a very busy woman that day. Pluto's
absence left a vacancy in the establishment no other could fill so
intelligently. Miss Loring had promptly attached herself as general
assistant to the mistress of the house. Delaven noticed how naturally
she fell into the position of an elder daughter there, and,
remembering Evilena's disclosures at Loringwood, and Matthew Loring's
own statement, he concluded that the wedding bells might sound at any
time after Kenneth's return, and he fancied they had been delayed,
already, three years longer than suited the pleasure of her uncle.
Delaven, as well as Judithe, was attracted by the personality of
Margeret. In the light, or the shadow, of the sad story he had
listened to, she took on a new interest, an atmosphere of romance
surrounded her. He pictured what her life must have been as a child,
amid the sunshine of Florida, the favorite of her easy-living,
easy-loving Greek father, the sole relic of some pretty slave! As she
walked silently along the halls of the Terrace, he tried to realize
Nelse's description of her gayety, once, in the halls of Loringwood.
And when he observed the adoring eyes with which she regarded the
Marquise after the pickaninny episode, he understood it was another
child she was thinking of--a child who should have been freed, and was
not, and the feelings of Pluto were as her own.
Two entire days passed without Pluto's return. There was some delay,
owing to the absence of the overseer from the Larue estate; then,
Zekal was ailing, and that delayed him until sundown of the second
day, when he took the child in his arms--his own child now--and with
its scanty wardrobe, and a few sundry articles of Rose's, all saved
religiously by an old "aunty," who had nursed her--he started homeward
on his long night tramp, so happy he scarce felt the weight of the boy
in his arms, or that of the bundle fastened with a rope across his
shoulders. He had his boy, and the boy was free! and when he thought
of the stranger who had wrought this miracle his heart swelled with
gratitude and the tears blinded him as he tramped homeward through the
darkness.
The first faint color of dawn was showing in the east when he walked
into Dilsey's cook-house and showed the child asleep in his arms.
What a commotion! as the other house servants mustered in, sleepily,
and straightway were startled very wide awake indeed, and each
insisted on feeling the weight of the newcomer, just, Dilsey said, as
if there never was a child seen on that plantation before. And all had
cures for the "brashy" spell the little chap had been afflicted by,
and which seemed frightened away entirely, as he looked about him with
eyes like black beads. All the new faces, and the petting, were a
revelation to Zekal.
Dilsey put up with it till everything else seemed at a standstill in
the morning's work, when she scattered the young folks right and left
to their several duties, got Pluto an excellent breakfast, and gave
the child in charge of one of the mothers in the quarters till
"mist'ess" settled about him.
"Yo' better take his little duds, too, Lucy," suggested Pluto, as the
boy was toddling away with her, contentedly, rich in the possession
of two little fists full of sweet things; "they're tied up in that
bandana--not the blue one! That blue one got some o' his mammy's
things I gwine look over; maybe might be something make him shirts or
aprons, an' if there is a clean dress in that poke I--I like to have
it put on 'im 'fore she sees him--Madame Caron, an', an' Mist'ess, o'
course! I like her to see he's worth while."
Then he asked questions about what all had been done in his absence,
and learned there had been company coming and going so much Mahs
Loring had his meals in his own room, "'cause o' the clatter they
made." Margeret had been over at the Pines with Miss Loring to see
about the work already commenced there, and Madame Caron and Miss Lena
and Dr. Delaven just amused themselves.
He learned that the mail had been detained and no one had gone for it,
and, tired though he was, started at once. He had noticed Madame
Caron's mail was of daily importance, and it should not be neglected
by him even if company did make the others forgetful.
He was especially pleased that he had gone, when the postmaster handed
over to him, besides several other letters and papers, a large,
important-looking envelope for the Marquise de Caron--a title
difficult for Pluto to spell; though he recognized it at sight.
The lady herself was on the veranda, in riding garb, when he presented
himself, and she smiled as she caught sight of that special envelope
among the rest.
"Margeret tells me you brought back the boy," she said, glancing up,
after peering in the envelope and ascertaining its contents, "and,
Pluto, you paid me for Zekal when you brought this letter to me--so
the balance is even."
Pluto made no comment--only shook his head and smiled. He could not
comprehend how any letter, even a big one, could balance Zekal.
She retired to her room to examine the other letters, while Pluto
placed the mail for the rest at their several places on the breakfast
table.
Judithe unfolded the large enclosure and gave a sigh of utter content
as her eyes rested on the words there. They conveyed to the Marquise
de Caron, of France, an estate in South Carolina outlined and
described and known as Loringwood. The house was sold furnished as it
stood, and there followed an inventory of contents, excepting only
family china and portraits.
"Not such an unlucky journey, after all, despite the coffins in the
tea cups," and she smiled at the fearful fancies of Louise, as she
laid the paper aside; for the time it had made her forget there were
other things equally important.
There was another letter, without signature. It said: "McVeigh is in
Charleston, detained by official matters. Pierson leaves with
particulars. Mail too irregular to be reliable. Your latest word from
Columbia most valuable; we transmitted it as you suggested. Your
location fortunate. The Powers at W. delighted with your success, but
doubtful of your safety--unhealthy climate except for the natives!
Report emancipation will be proclaimed, but nothing definite heard
yet."
She removed her habit and joined the rest at the breakfast table, clad
in the daintiest of pink morning gowns, and listened with pleased
surprise to Mrs. McVeigh's information that her son, the Colonel,
might be expected at any time. They had passed the blockade
successfully, reached Charleston two nights before; were detained by
official matters, and hoped, surely, to reach home within twenty-four
hours after the letter. His stay, however, would have to be brief, as
he must move north at once with his regiment.
And in the midst of the delight, Judithe created a sensation by
remarking:
"Well, my good people, I am not going to allow the Colonel all the
surprise. I have had one of my own this morning, and I can scarcely
wait to share it with you. It is the most astonishing thing!" and she
glanced around at the expectant faces.
"If it's of interest to you, it will be the wide world's worth to us,"
affirmed Delaven, with exaggerated show of devotion, at which she
laughed happily, and turned to her hostess.
"You remember I informed you in Mobile I meant to sell my Orleans
property, as I would not occupy it under existing rule;" to which
explanation Matthew Loring actually beamed commendation, "well, I left
it in the hands of my business man with orders to invest the money
from the sale in some interior plantations not under Federal control.
I wanted a house furnished, colonial by choice--some historical
mansion preferred. The particular reason for this is, I have no
relatives, no children to provide for, and the fancy has come to me
for endowing some educational institution in your land, and for such
purpose a mansion such as I suggested would, in all ways be
preferable. Well, they forwarded me a list of properties. I sent them
back unread lest I should covet them all, for they all would cost so
little! I repeated to them the description Madame McVeigh had given me
of your ancestral home, my dear sir, and told them to secure me a
property possessing just such advantages as yours does--near enough to
the coast for yachting, and far enough from cities to be out of social
chains, except the golden one of friendship," she added, letting her
eyes rest graciously on her listeners. "Well, can you surmise the
result of that order?"
Each looked at the other in wonder; her smile told half the truth.
"I am afraid to put my surmise in words," confessed Mrs. McVeigh, "for
fear of disappointment."
"I'm not!" and Evilena flourished her napkin to emphasize her delight,
"its Loringwood! Oh, oh, Madame Caron, you've bought Loringwood!"
Margeret was entering the room with a small tray containing something
for Mr. Loring, whose meals she prepared personally. Delaven, who was
facing her, saw her grow ashen, and her eyes closed as though struck a
physical blow; a glass from the tray shivered on the floor, as he
sprang up and saved her from falling.
"What ails you, Margeret?" asked Gertrude, with the ring of the silver
sounding through her tones. "There--she is all right again, Dr.
Delaven. Don't come into the dining room in future unless you feel
quite well. Uncle can't endure crashes, or nervous people, about
him."
"I know; I beg pardon, Miss Gertrude, Mistress McVeigh," and
Margeret's manner was above reproach in its respectful humility,
though Delaven observed that the firm lips were white; "the kitchen
was very warm. I--I was faint for a minute."
"Never mind about the glass, Caroline will pick it up," said Mrs.
McVeigh, kindly; "you go lay down awhile, it is very warm in the
kitchen. Dilsey always will have a tremendous fire, even to fry an egg
on; go along now--go rest where it's cool."
Margeret bent her head in mute acknowledgment of the kindness, and
passed out of the room. Mr. Loring had pushed his plate away with an
impatient frown, signifying that breakfast was over for him, any way.
Delaven, noticing his silence and the grim expression on his face,
wondered if he, too, was doubtful of that excuse uttered by the woman.
The kitchen, no doubt, was warm, but he had seen her face as she heard
Evilena's delighted exclamation; it was the certainty that Loringwood
was actually sold--Loringwood, and that grave under the pines?
Possibly she had fostered hope that it might not be yet--not for a
long time, and the suddenness of it had been like a physical shock to
the frail, devoted woman. He had reasoned it out like that, and his
warm, Irish heart ached for her as she left the room, and, glancing
about the table, he concluded that only Matthew Loring and himself
suspected the truth, or knew the real reason of her emotion, though
the eyes of the Marquise did show a certain frank questioning as they
met his own.
"Margeret's fit just frightened the plantation away for a minute,"
resumed Evilena, "but do own up, Madame Caron, is it Loringwood?"
"Yes," assented Judithe, "the letter from my lawyer, this morning,
informs me it is really Loringwood."
"I am very much pleased to hear it, Madame," and Matthew Loring's tone
was unusually hearty. "Since we part with it at all, I am pleased that
no scrub stock gets possession. The place is perfectly adapted to the
use you have planned, and instead of falling into neglect, the old
home will become a monument to progress."
"So I hope," replied Judithe, with a subtle light, as of stars, in the
depths of her eyes; "I am especially delighted to find that the old
furnishings remain; it would be difficult for me to collect articles
so in keeping with the entire scheme of arrangement, and it would
make a discord to introduce new things from the shops."
"You will find no discords of _that_ sort at Loringwood," said
Gertrude, speaking for the first time; "and, I hope, not many of any
kind. Many of the heavy, massive old things I disliked to part with,
but they would be out of place at the Pines, or, in fact, in any house
less spacious. Like uncle, I am pleased it goes into the keeping of
one who appreciates the artistic fitness of the old-fashioned
furnishings."
"Which she has never seen yet," supplemented Evilena, as Judithe
received this not very cordial compliment with a little bow and a
brilliant smile.
"We will remedy that just as soon as we can secure an invitation from
the present lady of the manor," she said, in mock confidence to
Evilena, across the table, at which the rest laughed, and Mr. Loring
declared that now she was the lady of the manor herself, and his one
regret was that he and his niece were not there to make her first
entrance a welcome one.
"That would certainly add to the pleasure of the visit," and her smile
was most gracious. "But even your wish to welcome me makes it all the
more delightful. I shall remember it when I first enter the door."
Gertrude made an effort to be cordial, but that it was an effort Mrs.
McVeigh easily discerned, and when they were alone, she turned to her
in wonder:
"What is it, dear? Are you displeased about the sale? I feel so
responsible for it; but I fancied it would be just what you would
want."
"So it is, too; but--oh, I had no idea it could all be settled so
quickly as this!"
"When people never hesitate to telegraph, even about trifles, and
Judithe never does, they can have business affairs moved very
quickly," explained Mrs. McVeigh; "but what possible reason have you
for objecting to the settlement?"
"I don't object, but--you will think me silly, perhaps--but, I am
sorry it is out of our hands before Kenneth returns. I should like to
have him go over the old place, just once, before strangers claim
it."
"Never mind, dear, the nearer you are to the Terrace the better that
Kenneth will like it, and the Pines is a great improvement in that
way."
"Yes; still it was at Loringwood I first saw him. Do you remember? You
folks had just moved here from Mobile; it was my tenth birthday, and I
had a party. Kenneth was the beau of the whole affair, because he was
a new-comer, and a 'town boy,' and, I remember, we compared ages and
found that he was three months older than I, and for a long time he
assumed superior airs in consequence," and she smiled at the
remembrance. "Well, Uncle Matthew is delighted, and I suppose I should
be. It ends all our money troubles for awhile, any way. Now, what are
you planning for Kenneth's home coming? All the people will want to
see him."
"And so they shall. We certainly can depend on him for tomorrow night,
and we will have a party. Pluto shall start with the invitations at
once."
And Pluto did, just as soon as he had brought Zekal around for an
inspection, which proved so entirely satisfactory that Evilena
threatened to adopt him right away. He should be her own especial boy
soon as he was big enough to run errands, which statement appeared to
make an impression on Zekal not anticipated, for he so delighted to
gaze on the pretty young white lady who petted him, that he objected
lustily to being removed from the light of her countenance; and
Delaven gave him a coin and informed him that he felt like himself,
often. This remark, made in the presence of Madame Caron, who laughed,
brought on a tilt at hostilities between himself and Miss Evilena, who
declared he was mocking her, and trying to render her ridiculous in
the eyes of the only foreigner she admired excessively! He endeavored
to persuade her to extend the last by warbling "Sweet Evilena," which
she declared she could not endure to hear for three distinct reasons.
"Let's hear them," he suggested, continuing the low humming:
"Ten years have gone by
And I have not one dollar;
Evilena still lives
In that green grassy hollow."
"There! what sort of man would he be, any way?" she demanded, "a man
who couldn't earn a dollar in ten years!"
"Arrah, now! and there's many a one of us travels longer and finds
less, and never gets a song made about him, either; so, that's your
first reason, is it?"
"And a very good one, too!" affirmed the practical damsel; "do you
want to hear the second?"
"An' it please your sovereign grace!"
"Well, it doesn't, for you can't sing it," and she emphasized the
statement by flaunting her garden hat at every word.
"Me, is it? Ah, now, listen to that! I can't sing it, can't I? Well,
then, I'll practice it all day and every day until you change your
mind about that, my lady!"
"I shan't; for I've heard it sung so much better--and by a boy _who
wore a uniform_--and that's the third reason."
After that remark she walked up the steps very deliberately, and was
very polite to him when they met an hour later, which politeness was
the foundation for a feud lasting forty-eight hours; she determined
that his punishment should be nothing _less_ than that; it would teach
him not to make her a laughing stock again. He should find he had not
an Irish girl to tease, and--and make love to--especially before other
folks!
And to shorten the season of her displeasure, he evolved a plan
promising to woo the dimples into her cheeks again, for, if nothing
but a uniformed singer was acceptable to her, a uniformed singer she
should have. For the sake of her bright eyes he was willing to humor
all her reasonable fancies--and most of her unreasonable ones. The
consequences of this particular one, however, were something he could
not foresee.