I descended the steps, and stood at a respectful distance. I saw a gray
head and a brown one side by side, and caught faintly the whispered love
of youth and age. Arms were at length unclasped, and Mrs. Grundy
presented me. A sudden up-flashing of dark eyes was the first impression
I received from the face turned towards me. She made me a low courtesy,
and held out her hand, and I took it and bowed over it with the best
grace of which I was master.
"I am glad to see you, Miss Salome," I said, truthfully, for my feelings
had undergone a wonderful revulsion, despite my indifference of that
morning. Sometimes a moment is long enough to change one's whole being.
"I am so pleased to find you here." Her voice was low, well bred, and
modulated. "Mother and father are very lonely after I go away. They love
me far more than I deserve," and she smiled back at them as they stood
hand in hand watching us. "Now, if you will excuse me, I will shake
hands with all of these good friends."
She nodded pleasantly in response to my bow, and moved away with a
certain gliding step. Straight to an old black mammy she went, and threw
herself into the good creature's arms. Then right and left she turned,
while they crowded around her, shaking hands with all. Some horny hands
she took could have crushed hers like a flower; but everywhere were
expressions of love and respect. And she was the gladdest thing there.
The genuine affection she felt for all the negroes was shown in her
cordial greetings.
The carriage was driven away, the blacks dispersed, and the rest of us
retired to "mother's room," which was situated back of mine. The two old
people hovered about their returned darling like parent birds over a
strayed fledgeling which had come back to the nest. I took a seat apart,
and, joining in the conversation but rarely, studied the girl who sat in
a large rocking chair, and who talked as volubly and as entertainingly
as any one could have wished. She was, as Mr. Grundy had said, of medium
build. Her form was youthful, but possessed of that subtle roundness
which betokens the approach of womanhood. Two dainty feet darted in and
out beneath her skirt as she rocked to and fro. Her face was not
beautiful, but the features were delicate and fine. Her lips were as red
as rich blood could make them, the upper one pouting ever so slightly,
and the soft brown hair was parted in the middle and drawn back from an
exquisite forehead. The dark brown eyes were the girl's chief charm.
They danced and sparkled in impish mischief, and had a way of shooting
sudden glances which made themselves felt as keenly as arrows. And
crowning it all was a sweet grace and womanliness which was good to see.
From that hour my opinion of a school-girl changed.
After supper all of us gathered on the front porch. Mr. and Mrs. Grundy
occupied the settee; Salome and I sat upon the porch at the top of the
steps, she leaning against one pillar, and I against the other, across
from her. Of course she did the talking, and while most of it was about
the things which had happened at school, I found myself listening with
increasing interest. I soon discovered that it was the music of her
voice which held me,--soft, rich, speaking in perfect accents. Her
narrative was frequently interrupted by bursts of bubbling laughter, as
some amusing incident was remembered and related. Very suddenly she
stopped.
"Listen!" she said, and turned her head sideways, holding up one finger.
Through the silence which followed came the twanging notes of a banjo.
"It's Uncle Zeb!" she announced, in a loud whisper. Then to me,
impulsively, "Don't _you_ like music, Mr. Stone?"
She leaned towards me, as though it was a vital question which she had
propounded.
"Very dearly," I answered promptly. "This is the first that I have heard
since coming here."
"It's a jig, and he's playing it for me--the old darling! I must go to
him, or he would be hurt."
She arose swiftly, and gathered up her skirts.
"Will you come, Mr. Stone, since you love music? We won't stay long."
I mumbled something, and got up, a trifle confused. Such perfect candor
and lack of artificiality was a revelation to me. She placed her
disengaged hand upon my arm at the bottom of the steps.
"Uncle Zeb almost raised me," she explained, as we took our way around
the house towards the darkey cabins. "He's taken me to the fields with
him many a time, and I was brought up on that tune you hear him playing.
He always plays it when I come home--look at them now!"
The cabins were all built in a locust grove to the rear of the house.
To-night the negroes had lighted a bonfire, and were making merry in the
old-time, ante-bellum way. Seated upon broken-down chairs, or strewn
upon the grass in various attitudes, these dusky children of misfortune
watched the performance of an exceedingly black old uncle, who, sitting
upon a bench before his cabin, was picking the strings of a banjo almost
as old as himself. His bald head, surrounded by a fringe of gray wool,
shone brightly in the firelight, he was rocking his body rhythmically
backwards and forwards, and keeping time with one foot upon the hard
earth. As we came into the circle of firelight we were discovered, and
there was a quick movement, and a deferential giving way. My companion
took her hand from my arm, and the action seemed to draw me much nearer
the earth than I had been for the past two or three minutes. The
musician stopped playing when he became aware of our presence.
"Bress de Lawd, honey chile! Am dat you? 'Pears to me a' angel mus' 'a'
drapped down frum de sky!"
"This is your little child, Uncle Zeb," she answered with feeling, "and
I have come out here to listen to you play."
"De ol' man can't play 'less de feet's a-goin'," he replied, shaking his
head solemnly. "You know you's al'ays danced fur ol' Zeb."
A darker color came to her cheeks, and she turned smilingly to me.
"Uncle Zeb taught me a jig when I was a wee thing in pinafores. He will
never play for me unless I dance for him. You know he thinks I am still
a child of eight or ten. If you think it's not--real nice, I won't ask
you to stay."
The roguish upcasting of starry eyes, and the deprecating little manner,
tied my tongue for the instant.
"I shall be glad to stay, if you will permit me."
This much I managed to utter, and as she bowed assent, I went and leaned
against the cabin wall, by the side of Uncle Zeb. This was done partly
to give her all the room she needed, and partly to secure a support for
myself, for a strange weakness had begun to assail my limbs.
There was an eager, anticipative move on the part of the negroes. They
nudged each other, and whispered, grinned broadly, and shifted their
positions to where they could obtain an unobstructed view. Salome stood
bareheaded, with arms akimbo, waiting for the music. The travelling suit
had been discarded, and she was dressed in a simple blue dimity frock
which showed the perfect curves of her figure to charming advantage.
Uncle Zeb, with characteristic leisure, was in no hurry to begin. He
twisted the screws and thrummed the strings in a very wise manner. At
length the instrument was tuned to his satisfaction, and then his
claw-like fingers began to move with astonishing rapidity. I looked at
Salome. She was standing perfectly still. Then, as the music quickened,
I saw her supple body begin to sway, like a lily's stem when a zephyr
breathes upon it. Her hands dropped to her sides, and daintily lifting
her gown above her feet, she began to dance. Gently at first, and with
such ease that she barely moved. Then the step receded, advanced, and
grew faster. Her tiny feet twinkled, and tapped the earth in perfect
time and rhythm. Such living grace I had never looked upon! The bending
form, the flushed face, and the dancing feet, the grouped negroes and
the old musician,--the picture was burned into my memory like painting
is burned upon china in a kiln. My breath came quicker, and my face grew
hot. I scarcely knew when she stopped, but for the wild cheers of the
spectators. Then, flushed and laughing, she came and cast herself upon
the bench by Uncle Zeb.
"Yo' do it better eb'ry time, chile!" declared the old fellow, highly
delighted that she had danced to his playing.
"And you gave it better than ever before! Did I shock you, Mr. Stone?"
She turned to me with a look of deep contrition.