"Miss Lou" Part 9

The girl rose and followed submissively, for she was overwhelmed by a confused sense of danger, not merely to the Union soldier, but also to her old mammy, who was sheltering him. The extremity of her fears and the fact that Chunk had not come to warn them led her to dread that her aunt's suspicions were already aroused. Chunk gave her a very anxious look as she pa.s.sed, but she only shook her head slightly, as much as to say, "I don't know."

The negro's elation and confidence now pa.s.sed utterly; he became deeply alarmed, not only for the scout, but for himself and grandmother as well. He was not long in coming to a decision. Whately and his troopers were absent, and now, perhaps, was the best time to act. After satisfying himself that he was not observed, he slipped away to the cabin.

When Mrs. Baron finally disappeared, Aun' Jinkey sank into a chair almost in a state of collapse. "O good Lawd!" she gasped, "I des tremblin' so in my knee-jints I kyant stan'."

"Courage, Aunt Jinkey," said Scoville, through the c.h.i.n.k in the floor.

"Try to get Chunk here as soon as possible."

"I des done beat. I kyant lif my han' no mo'."

"Granny," said Chunk, sauntering in, "you des watch at de do'," and without waiting for a word he went up the ladder, lifted the door and closed it.

"Ah, Chunk, I wanted you badly," said Scoville. "Do you think it possible for me to get away at once?"

"Dat des w'at I come ter see 'bout, mars'r, en I'se gwine wid you.

Ma.r.s.e Whately and he men all done gone till eb'nin'."

"Well, there's no need of further words. See what you can do about getting horses and a good start. I will explain on the way. Hoot like an owl when the coast is clear and you are ready."

A few moments later Chunk emerged from the cabin, with careless mien, eating a pone of hoecake.

"Go back to yer work," shouted Perkins, who was pa.s.sing in the distance.

This Chunk did, his eyes following the overseer until the hated form was lost to sight in a distant field where a squad of hands were at work. Perkins was simply trying to be ubiquitous that day. Chunk's next step was to steal to the rear of the stables. To his delight he found that Whately had left his horse in order that it might rest for further hard service, and had borrowed one of his uncle's animals for the afternoon ride. As Chunk was stealthily putting on a bridle, a gruff voice asked, "What yer doin' thar?"

The negro's heart stood still. Turning quickly, he saw, to his dismay, one of the Confederate soldiers lying on a pile of straw. A closer scrutiny revealed that the man was drowsy from partial intoxication, and Chunk, feeling that he was in for it now, said boldly: "Ma.r.s.e Whately tole me at dinner ter tek his hoss ter de run fer a drink en ter limber his jints 'bout dis time in de eb'nin'."

"Very well; bring 'im back safe en sud'n or I'll make you a head shorter'n you air."

"Ob co'se, mars'r, I do ez I tol'. I des ride ole bay down, too. Mout ez well took 'im ter water de same time."

The soldier making no response Chunk slipped away with the horses, trembling as if in an ague fit. Nothing was left for him now but to get away and take his chances. Fortune in this instance, as it often does, favored the bolder course. The Confederate soldier was familiar with Chunk, since he had been the waiter at the troopers' mess; moreover, his faculties were confused and blunted and he was soon asleep again.

Perkins' back was turned and every one at the mansion deeply preoccupied. Even Zany, who had been charged not to leave the dining-room, was not on the watch.

Chunk hastened the horses down the lane toward the run, which having reached, he looked cautiously around, then hooted in fairly successful imitation of the ominous bird of night. Aun' Jinkey dropped into her chair again with an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n of terror.

"Look out of the door and tell me if you see any one," said Scoville, quickly.

Mechanically she obeyed, saying, "No, mars'r, but dat squinch-owl des shook me like a ghos'."

Before she knew it he was beside her, his eyes shining with excitement.

"There," he said, putting into the hand he pressed a ten-dollar bill, "I'll see you again, and you won't be sorry. Good-by," and with a swift glance around he strode away toward the run. A moment or two later he was mounted on the bare back of Mad Whately's horse, following Chunk down the stream so that the flowing water might obliterate the hoof-prints. They soon left the water and put their horses to a gallop toward the forest, within whose shades they disappeared. Both had deemed best not to tell Aun' Jinkey of their departure, so that she might honestly plead ignorance.

With the unerring instinct of a scout the soldier led the way hour after hour toward the point where he expected to find the Union cavalry force. On the way he and Chunk compared notes, and thus Scoville more truly understood Miss Lou's position. "We must be back to-morrow afternoon," he said, "in time to prevent this marriage. So, Chunk, be careful. You must not get sleepy or let your horse stumble."

Leaving them to pursue their way to the northwest, we can return to The Oaks. Miss Lou followed her aunt into the house, burdened for the moment with a new and pressing anxiety. Did the resolute old lady suspect that one of the cla.s.s which she most detested had been concealed within earshot of her voice, and would a search be inst.i.tuted? The girl's sympathies had gone out to the stranger, and the fact that he so trusted her appealed strongly to her woman's nature. In her alienation from her relatives she was peculiarly isolated and lonely at just the period in life when she most craved appreciative understanding, and her intuitions led her to believe that this stranger could both understand and respect her feelings. His genial, kindly smile warmed her sore, lonely heart, and convinced her that there was a world of human affections and simple faith as well as of imperious wills and formal beliefs. His words in regard to himself and the North was another shock to her confidence in her uncle and aunt, and another proof that there was no good reason for the marriage they were forcing upon her.

For a brief time she watched with keen-eyed interest to see if her aunt would take any steps to have Aun' Jinkey's cabin searched. Her mind was soon relieved on this score, for she became convinced that her uncle was distracted by various anxieties; while Mrs. Baron, from force of habit and with the purpose of diverting her mind from all she feared, was pursuing her preparations with restless energy, keeping every one in her employ as busy as herself. It was evident that her niece's idle hands and perturbed wanderings to and fro annoyed her, and at last she broke out: "Louise, it would be much more becoming in you to unite with me in my efforts. The idea of your sitting and idly bemoaning your case in that foolish old woman's cabin! I'm glad you had the grace to show obedience to me before her, for this is a time when to our people the example of obedience is most necessary, and you should be the first to set it in all respects. It will only increase the trouble which your uncle and Perkins are having if our people see that you are rebellious.

There is much that you should be doing and seeing to, for your uncle says that it may be best for you to leave the plantation with Mrs.

Whately and her son immediately after your marriage."

"I am not married yet. I shall appeal to Aunt Whately, and if she has a woman's heart she will not sanction the marriage."

"You will find that because she has a woman's heart, and a Baron's heart, she will sanction it and insist upon it."

"We shall see," replied the girl, turning to go to her room.

"Louise, it is my wish that you should put your things in order to be packed hastily, if need be."

Miss Lou made no answer.

CHAPTER IX

PARALYZED WITH SHAME

So far from obeying her aunt's injunctions, Miss Lou sat down by her window, but she did not note the smiling spring landscape over which the western sun was throwing its long, misty rays. Tears so blurred her eyes and blinded her vision that she could scarcely see at all. At last she was aroused by the crunching of wheels, and became aware that Mrs.

Whately had arrived. From what she knew of this aunt she had a good deal of hope from her appeal, for Mrs. Whately had always seemed a kind-hearted woman. True, she had been over-indulgent to her son, and, in her blind idolatry of this only child, blind to his faults, always comforting herself with the belief that he was merely high-spirited and would settle down when he grew older.

Miss Lou wished to speak to the mother before the son returned, and in the hope of securing a merciful ally in the lady, went down immediately to receive her. Mr. Baron was on the back porch calling, "Chunk, where in the mischief are you?" Where, indeed, with the start he had gained for the Union lines?

"My dear niece," cried Mrs. Whately, effusively, "how glad I am to see you, and to take you in my arms on this deeply interesting occasion!"

but the matron was troubled at the girl's red eyes and pallid face.

"I will show you to your room at once," said Mrs. Baron to her guest, decisively and significantly.

Miss Lou was right in believing that the situation and the unhappy appearance of the prospective bride would be explained. She had been forestalled in her chance to make an appeal. Mrs. Baron emphatically sustained her husband's purpose, concluding: "My dear sister, in this crisis you will have to take a firm stand with the rest of us. Louise is acting like a perverse child, and no more realizes the necessity and wisdom of our course than a baby."

Meantime the outcry for Chunk increased, and Miss Lou was troubled that he did not respond. Taking advantage of the fact that her mistress was upstairs, Zany stole swiftly, with many a misgiving, to Aun' Jinkey's cabin.

"Whar dat gran'boy o' you'n?" she asked, breathlessly.

"Ain' he in de gyardin?"

"No, he ain'. Does you KNOW whar he is? Bettah tell me de truf. Mout sabe you a heap ob trouble."

"Des you min' yo' business, en doan c.u.m trapesin' yere 'bout Chunk. You talks ez ef you own 'im."

"Ole mars'r tinks he own 'im, en he des a yellin' fer 'im. De oberseer hollerin', too, en de lil n.i.g.g.ahs runnin' yere, dar, en yander lookin'

fer 'im. Yere one ob um now."

With new and direful forebodings Aun' Jinkey declared loudly: "I doan know what he be. He ain' say not'n ter me 'bout gwine anywhar."

Uttering an angry and contemptuous exclamation, Zany sped back, and, with a scared look, said to Miss Lou, "Aun' Jinkey 'clar she dunno not'n 'bout Chunk's doin's. Ef she ain' foolin' me, I des belebe he's runned away."

At these tidings and at this suggestion the young girl was almost distracted. She went instantly to the cabin, supposing that it would soon be searched.