"Certainly, I apologize," and Masterson looked utterly crushed by his
mistaken zeal; "apologize to every one concerned, collectively and
individually."
Even McVeigh felt sorry for his humiliation, knowing how thoroughly
honest he was, how devoted to the cause; and Mrs. McVeigh was
disconsolate over "loyal, blundering Phil Masterson," whom, she could
not hope, would remain for the party after what had occurred, and she
feared Judithe would keep to her room--who could blame her? Such a
scene was enough to prostrate any woman.
But it did not prostrate Judithe. She sent for Mrs. McVeigh, to tell
her there must on no account be further hostilities between Colonel
McVeigh and Captain Masterson.
"It was all a mistake," she insisted. "Captain Masterson no doubt only
did his duty when presented with the statements of the secret service
man; that the statements were incorrect was something Captain
Masterson could not, of course, know, and she appreciated the fact
that, being a foreigner, she was, in his opinion, possibly, more
likely to be imposed upon by servants who were not so loyal to the
South as she herself was known to be."
All this she said in kindly excuse, and Mrs. McVeigh thought her the
most magnanimous creature alive.
Her only anxiety over the entire affair appeared to be concerning her
maid Louise, who, also, was suffering the suspicion attaching to
foreigners who were non-residents; it was all very ridiculous, of
course, but would necessitate her going personally to Savannah. She
could not leave so faithful a creature in danger.
Mrs. McVeigh prevailed upon her to send word with Mr. Pierson to the
authorities, and remain herself for two days longer--until Kenneth and
his men left for the front, which Judithe consented to do.
Masterson, who for the first time in his life found the McVeighs
lacking in cordiality to him (Evilena, even, disposed to look on him
as dead and buried so far as she was concerned), felt his loyal heart
go out to Gertrude, who was the only one of them all who frankly
approved, and who was plainly distressed at the idea of him going at
once to join his company.
"Don't go, Phil," she said, earnestly; "something is wrong here--terribly
wrong; I can't accuse anyone in particular--I can't even guess what it
really means, but, Phil," and she glanced around her cautiously before
putting the question, "What possible reason could Madame Caron and
Captain Monroe have for pretending they met here as strangers, when it
was not a fact?"
Whereupon Gertrude told him of her discovery in that direction.
"I can't, of course, mention it to Kenneth or Mrs. McVeigh, now," she
whispered; "they are so infatuated with her, Kenneth in particular.
But I do hope you will put aside your personal feelings; make any and
every sort of apology necessary, but remain right here until you see
what it all means. You may prove in the end that you were not entirely
mistaken today. What do you think of it?"
Think! His thoughts were in a whirl. If Madame Caron and Captain
Monroe were secretly friends it altered the whole affair. Monroe,
whose conduct on arrest was unusual; who had a parole which might, or
might not, be genuine; who had come there as by accident just in time
to meet Pierson; who had been in the room alone with Pierson before
Madame Caron came down the stairs--he knew, for he had been in sight
when she crossed the hall.
He had been a fool--right in theory, but wrong as to the individual.
He would remain at the Terrace, and he would start on a new trail!
Mrs. McVeigh was very glad he would remain; she believed implicitly in
his profound regret, and had dreaded lest the question be recalled
between the two men after they had gone to the front; but, if Phil
remained their guest, she hoped the old social relations would be
completely restored, and she warned Evilena to be less outspoken in
regard to her own opinions.
So, Captain Masterson remained, and remained to such purpose that
during the brief hour of Mr. Pierson's stay he was watched very
closely, and the watcher was disappointed that no attempt was made at
a private interview with Captain Monroe, who very plainly (Masterson
thought, ostentatiously) showed himself in a rather unsocial mood,
walking thoughtfully alone on the lawn, and making no attempt to
speak, even with Madame Caron.
Pierson had a brief interview with her, rendered the more brief that
he was conscious of Masterson's orderly lounging outside the window,
but plainly within hearing, and the presence of Mrs. McVeigh, who was
all interest and sympathy concerning Louise.
When he said: "Don't be at all disturbed over the work to be done,
Madame; there is plenty of time in which to complete everything," the
others present supposed, of course, he referred to the repairs on the
yacht; and when he said, in reply to her admonitions, "No fear of me
losing the road again, I shall arrive tonight," they supposed, of
course, he referred to his arrival at the coast. Judithe knew better;
she knew it meant his return, and more hours of uncertainty for her.
Colonel McVeigh helped to keep those hours from dragging by following
up his love-making with a proposal of marriage, which she neither
accepted or declined, but which gave her additional food for thought.
All the day Pluto brooded over that scene in the library. He was
oppressed by the dread of harm to Madame Caron if some one did not at
once acquaint her with the fact that the real spy was Madame's maid,
who had fled for fear of recognition by the Lorings. He had been
curious as to what motive had been strong enough to bring her back to
the locality so dangerous to her freedom. He was puzzled no longer--he
knew.
But, how to tell Madame Caron? How could a nigger tell a white lady
that story of Rhoda and Rhoda's mother? And if part was told, all must
be told. He thought of telling Dr. Delaven, who already knew the
history of Margeret, but Dr. Delaven was a friend to the Lorings, and
how was a nigger to know what a white man's honor would exact that he
do in such a case? And Pluto was afraid to ask it.
Instinctively his trust turned to the blue uniformed "Linkum soldier."
No danger of him telling the story of the runaway slave to the wrong
person. And he was Madame Caron's friend. Pluto had noted how he
stepped beside her when Masterson brought his accusation against her,
or her agent, Pierson. Monroe had been a sort of divinity to him from
the moment the officer in blue had walked up the steps of the Terrace,
and Pluto's admiration culminated in the decision that he was the one
man to warn Madame Caron of her maid's identity without betraying it
to any other.
The lady who caused all this suppressed anxiety was, apparently,
care-free herself, or only disturbed slightly over the report
concerning Louise. She knew the girl was in no real danger, but she
knew, also, that at any hint of suspicion Louise would be in terror
until joined by her mistress.
She heard Matthew Loring had sent over for Judge Clarkson to arrange
some business affairs while Kenneth was home, and despite Mrs.
McVeigh's statement that they neither bought nor sold slaves, she
fancied she knew what one of the affairs must be.
Judge Clarkson, however, was not at home--had been called across the
country somewhere on business, but Aunt Sajane sent word that they
would certainly be over in the evening and would come early, if Gideon
returned in time.
But he did not. Several of the guests arrived before them; Colonel
McVeigh was employed as host, and the business talk had to be deferred
until the following morning.
Altogether, the sun went down on a day heavy with threats and
promises. But whatever the rest experienced in that atmosphere of
suppressed feeling, Kenneth McVeigh was only responsive to the
promises; all the world was colored by his hopes!
And Monroe, who saw clearly what the hopes were, and who thought he
saw clearly what the finale would be, had little heart for the
festivities afoot--wished himself anywhere else but on the hospitable
plantation of the McVeighs, and kept at a distance from the charming
stranger who had bewitched the master of it.
Twilight had fallen before Pluto found the coveted opportunity of
speaking with him alone. Monroe was striding along the rose arbor,
smoking an after-supper cigar, when he was suddenly confronted by the
negro who had questioned him about the Federal policy as to slavery.
He had been running along the hedge in a stooping position so as not
to be seen from the windows of the dining room, where the other
servants were working, and when he gained the shadows of an oleander
tree, straightened up and waited.
"Well," remarked Monroe, as he witnessed this maneuver, "what is it?"
Pluto looked at him steadily for an instant, and then asked,
cautiously:
"Mahs Captain, you a sure enough friend of Madame Caron?"
"'Sure enough' friend--what do you mean?"
"I mean Madame Caron gwine to have trouble if some sure enough friend
don't step in an' tell her true who the spy is they all talk 'bout
today."
"Indeed?" said Monroe, guardedly; his first thought was one of
suspicion, lest it be some trick planned by Masterson.
"Yes, sah; I find out who that woman spy is, but ain't no one else
knows! I can't tell a white lady all that story what ain't noways
fitten' fo' ladies to listen to, but--but somebody got to tell her,
somebody that knows jest how much needs tellen', an' how much to keep
quiet--somebody she trusts, an' somebody what ain't no special friend
o' the Lorings. Fo' God's sake, Mahsa Captain, won't yo' be that
man?"
Monroe eyed him narrowly for an instant, and then tossed away the
cigar.
"No fooling about this business, mind you," he said, briefly; "what
has Madame Caron to do with any spy? And what has Matthew Loring?"
"Madame not know she got _anything_ to do with her," insisted Pluto,
eagerly, "that gal come heah fo' maid to Madame Caron, an' then ole
Nelse (what Lorings use to own) he saw her, an' that scare her plum
off the place. An' the reason why Mahsa Loring is in it is 'cause that
fine French maid is a runaway slave o' his--or maybe she b'long to
Miss Gertrude, _I_ don' know rightly which it is. Any how, she's
Margeret's chile an' ought to a knowed more'n to come a 'nigh to
Loring even if she is growd up. That why I know fo' suah she come back
fo' some special spy work--what else that gal run herself in danger
fo' nothen'?"
"You'd better begin at the beginning of this story, if it has one,"
suggested Monroe, who could see the man was intensely in earnest, "and
I should like to know why you are mixing Madame Caron in the affair."
"She bought my baby fo' me--saved him from the trader, Mahsa Captain,"
and Pluto's voice trembled as he spoke. "Yo' reckon I evah fo'get that
ar? An' now seems like as how she's got mixed up with troubles, an' I
come to yo' fo' help 'cause yo' a Linkum man, an' 'cause yo' her
frien'."
It was twenty minutes later before Pluto completed his eager, hurried
story, and at its finish Monroe knew all old Nelse had told Delaven,
and more, too, for confidential servants learn many hidden things, and
Rosa--afterwards Pluto's wife--knew why Margeret's child was sent to
the Larue estate for training. Mistress Larue, whose conscience was of
the eminently conventional order, seldom permitting her to contest any
decision of her husband, yet did find courage to complain somewhat of
the child's charge and her ultimate destination--to complain, not on
moral, but on financial grounds--fully convinced that so wealthy a
man as Matthew Loring could afford to pay more for her keeping than
the sum her husband had agreed to, and that the youth, Kenneth
McVeigh, to whose estate the girl was partly sold, could certainly
afford more of recompense than his guardian had agreed to.
Pluto told that portion of the story implicating his master with
considerable reluctance, yet felt forced to tell it all, that Monroe
should be impressed with the necessity of absolute secrecy to every
one except Madame Caron, and she, of course, must not hear that part
of it.
"Name o' God, no!" burst out Pluto, in terror of what such a
revelation would mean. "What yo' reckon Madame Caron think o' we all
ef she done heah _that_? Don't reckon his own ma evah heard tell a
whisper o' that ar; all Mahs Matt Loring's doin's, that sale
was--_must_ a been! Mahs Ken wan't only a boy then--not more'n
fifteen, so yo' see--"
Monroe made no comment, though he also had a vision of what it would
mean if Madame Caron--she of all women!--should hear this evidently
true story just as Pluto related it.
He walked along the rose hedge and back again in silence, the colored
man regarding him anxiously; finally he said:
"All right, my man. I'll speak to Madame and be careful not to tell
her too much. You are all right, Pluto; you did right to come to me."
Some one called Pluto from the window. He was about to go when Monroe
asked:
"What about that picture you said your wife had of the girl? Madame
Caron may not be easy to convince. You'd better let me have it to show
her. Is it a good likeness?"
"'Fore God I don' know! I only reckon it is, 'cause Nelse took her,
on sight, fo' Margeret's ghost, which shows it must be the plain image
of her! I done been so upset since I got back home with Zekal I nevah
had a minute to look ovah Rosa's b'longens', but the likeness is in
that bundle somewhere; Rosa alles powerful careful o' that locket
thing, an' kep' it put away; don't mind as I evah seen it but once,
jest when we fust married. I'd a clean fo'got all 'bout it, only fo'
an accident--an' that's the woman now it was painted from."
He pointed to a window where Margeret stood outlined for an instant
against the bright background.
"Don't look more like her now, I reckon," he continued, "all her
trouble must a' changed her mightily, fo' the ole folks do say she was
counted a beauty once. Little Rhoda went a'most crazy when some one
stole the locket, so Rosa said; then by and by the gal what took it
got scared--thought it was a hoodoo--an' fetched it back, but Rhoda
gone away then. My Rosa took it an' kep' it faithful, waiten' fo' that
chile to come back, but she nevah come back while Rosa lived."
Monroe was staring still at the figure of Margeret, seen dimly, now,
through the window.
"Look here!" he said, sharply, "if the old man recognized the
likeness, how comes it that the mother herself did not see it?"
"Why, Margeret she not get here till nex' day after Madame Caron's
maid start down the river to take the cars fo' Savannah," explained
Pluto. "Then Miss Gertrude come a visiten' an' fetch Margeret along.
Yo' see, sah, that woman done been made think her chile dead a long
time ago, an' when Margeret went clean 'stracted the word went down to
Larues that she dead or dyen'--one! any way my Rosa nevah know'd no
different till Larues moved back from Georgy, so there wan't no one
heah to 'dentify her, an' there wan't no one heah to let that gal know
she _had_ a liven mammy."
Again Caroline called Pluto.
"Go on," said Monroe, "but get me the picture soon as you can. I leave
in the morning."
"I be right heah with it in hour's time," promised Pluto; "don' reckon
I can slip away any sooner, a sight o' quality folks a' comen'."