The Bondwoman Part 20

Mrs. Nesbitt shook out the folds of her crisp lawn, adjusted her bonnet and puffs and sighed, as they walked up the long avenue.

"I can remember when the lily pads never could get a chance to grow there on account of the lot of company always coming in boats," she said, regretfully, "and I've heard that the old Lorings lived like kings here long ago; wild, reckless, magnificent men; not at all like the Lorings now; and oh, my, how the place has been neglected of late.

Not a sign of life about the house. Now, in _Tom_ Loring's time--"

They had reached the foot of the steps when the great double doors swung back and a woman appeared on the threshold and inclined her head in greeting.

"Well, Margeret, I am glad to see some one alive," declared Mrs.

Nesbitt; "the place is so still."

"Yes; just look at Pluto and Bob," said Evilena, motioning towards the boatmen. "One would think a ghost had met them at the landing, they are so subdued."

The brown eyed, grey haired woman in the door glanced at the two colored men who were following slowly along a path towards the back of the house.

"Yes, Miss Lena, it is quiet," she agreed. "Please step in Mistress Nesbitt. I'll have Raquel show you right up to your rooms, for Miss Loring didn't think you could get here for an hour yet, and she felt obliged to ride over to the north corner, but won't be gone long."

"And Mr. Loring--how is he?"

"Mr. Loring is very much worn out. He's gone asleep now. Doctor says he's not to be seen just yet."

"Oh, yes; the doctor. I'll see him directly after I've rested a little. He speaks English, I hope. Are you coming up, honey?"

"Not yet. I'll keep a lookout for Gertrude."

Margeret had touched a bell and in response a little black girl had appeared, who smiled and ducked her head respectfully.

"Howdy, Miss Sajane? Howdy, Miss Lena?" she exclaimed, her black eyes dancing. "I dunno how come it come, I nevah heerd you all, for I done got--"

"Raquel, you show Mistress Nesbitt to the west room," said the quiet tones of Margeret, and Raquel's animation subsided into wordless grins as she gathered up the sunshade, reticule and other belongings, and preceded Mistress Nesbitt up the stairs.

"If there's anything I can do for you just send Raquel for me."

"Thank you, Margeret. I'll remember."

Margeret crossed the hall to the parlor door and opened it.

"If you'd rather rest in here, Miss Lena--"

"No, no; I'll go look for Gertrude. Don't mind me. I remember all the rooms well enough to make myself at home till she comes."

Margeret inclined her head slightly and moved along the hall to the door of the dining room, which she entered.

Evilena looked after her with a dubious smile in the blue-gray eyes.

"I wonder if I could move as quietly as that even with my feet _bare_," and she tried walking softly on the polished oak floor, but the heels of her shoes would persist in giving out little clicking sounds as Margeret's had not.

"It's no use. No living person with shoes on could walk silently as that woman. She's just a ghost who--_a-gh-gh_!"

Her attempt at silent locomotion had brought her to the door of the library, directly opposite the dining room. As she turned to retrace her steps that door suddenly opened and a hand grasped her shoulder.

"Oh, ho! This time I've caught you, have I? you--oh, murder!"

Her half uttered scream had been checked by the sound of a voice which memory told her was not that of her bugbear, the invalid master of the house. It was, instead, a strange gentleman, who was young, and even attractive; whose head was a ma.s.s of reddish curls, and whose austere gaze changed quickly to an embarra.s.sed stare as her hat slipped back and he saw her face. The girl was the first to recover herself.

"Yes, you certainly did catch me this time," she gasped.

"My dear young lady, I'm a blundering idiot. I beg your pardon most humbly. I thought it was that Raquel, and I--"

"Oh, Raquel?" and she backed to the opposite wall, regarding him with doubt and question in her eyes.

"Exactly. Allow me to explain. Raquel, in company with some other imps of all shades, have developed an abnormal interest in the unpacking of various boxes today, and especially a galvanic battery in here, which--"

"Battery? In _there_?" and Evilena raised on her tip-toes to survey the room over his shoulder. "I know some boys of Battery B, but I never saw them without uniforms."

"Uniform, is it? Well, now, you see, I've only been a matter of hours in the country, and small chance to look up a tailor. Are--are they a necessity to the preservation of life here?"

He spoke with a doubtful pretense of timidity, and looked at her quizzically. She smiled, but made a little grimace, a curve of the lips and nod of the head conveying decision.

"You will learn it is the only dress for a man that makes life worth living, for him, around here," she replied. "Every man who is not superannuated or attached to the state government in some way has to wear a uniform unless he wants his loyalty questioned."

The un-uniformed man smiled at her delightful patriotic frankness.

"Faith, now, I've no objection to the questions if you are appointed questioner. But let me get you a chair. Even when on picket duty and challenging each new comer, you are allowed a more restful att.i.tude than your present one, I hope. You startled me into forgetting--"

"_I_ startled _you_? Well!"

"Oh, yes. I was the one to do the bouncing out and nabbing you, wasn't I? Well, now, I can't believe you were the more frightened of the two, for all that. Have this chair, please; it is the most comfortable. You see, I fancied Raquel had changed under my touch from dusky brown to angelic white. The hat hid your face, you know, until you turned around, and then--"

"Well?" At the first tone of compliment she had forgotten all the strangeness of their meeting, and remembered only the coquetry so naturally her own. With or without the uniform of her country, he was at least a man, and there had been a dearth of men about their plantation, "The Terrace," of late.

"Well," he repeated after her, "when you tipped the hat back I thought in a wink of all the fairy stories of transformation I used to hear told by the old folks in Ireland."

"Do you really mean that you believe fairy stories?" Her tone was severe and her expression chiding.

"On my faith I believed them all that minute."

Her eyes dropped to the toe of her slipper. It was all very delightful, this tete-a-tete with the complimentary unknown, and to be thought a fairy! She wished she had gone up with Aunt Sajane and brushed her hair. Still--

"I was sure it was Mr. Loring who had hold of me until I looked around," she confessed, "and that frightened me just as much as the wickedest fairy or goblin could ever do."

"Indeed, now, would it?"

She glanced around to see if her indiscreet speech had been overheard and then nodded a.s.sent.

"Oh, you needn't smile," she protested; and his face at once became comically grave. "_You_ didn't have him for a bug-a-boo when you were little, as I did. That doctor of his gave orders that no one was to see him just now, and I am glad Gertrude will be back before we are admitted. With Gertrude to back me up I could be brave as--as--"

"A sheep," suggested the stranger.

"I was going to say a lion, but lions are big, and I'm not very."