The Late Mrs. Null Part 7

"I'll do dat," said the old man, much delighted with the idea of doing something which he supposed would remove the clouds which overhung the household of his mistress. "I'll fotch de hoss an' de spring waggin an'

dribe you ober dar."

"No, you don' do no sech thing!" exclaimed Aunt Patsy, angrily. "I ain't gwine to hab no hosses to run away, an' chuck me out on de road. Ef you kin fotch de oxen an' de cart, I go 'long wid you, but I don' want no hosses."

"Dat's fus' rate," said Isham. "I'll fotch de ox cart, an' carry you ober. When you want ter go?"

"Dunno jes' now," said Aunt Patsy, pushing away a block of wood which served for a footstool, and making elaborate preparations to rise from her chair. "I'll sen' fur you when I's ready."

The next morning was a very busy one for Aunt Patsy's son Tom's yellow boy Bob's child; and by afternoon it was necessary to send for two colored women from a neighboring cabin to a.s.sist in the preparations which Aunt Patsy was making for her projected visit. An old hair covered trunk, which had not been opened for many years, was brought out, and the contents exposed to the unaccustomed light of day; two coa.r.s.e cotton petticoats were exhumed and ordered to be bleached and ironed; a yellow flannel garment of the same nature was put aside to be mended with some red pieces which were rolled up in it; out of several yarn stockings of various ages and lengths two were selected as being pretty much alike, and laid by to be darned; an old black frock with full "bishop sleeves,"

a good deal mended and dreadfully wrinkled, was given to one of the neighbors, expert in such matters, to be ironed; and the propriety of making use of various other ancient duds was eagerly and earnestly discussed. Aunt Patsy, whose vitality had been wonderfully aroused, now that there was some opportunity for making use of it, spent nearly two hours turning over, examining, and reflecting upon a pair of old-fashioned corsets, which, although they had been long cherished, she had never worn. She now hoped that the occasion for their use had at last arrived but the utter impossibility of getting herself into them was finally made apparent to her, and she mournfully returned them to the trunk.

Washing, starching, ironing, darning, patching, and an immense deal of talk and consultation, occupied that and a good deal of the following day, the rest of which was given up to the repairing of an immense pair of green baize shoes, without which Aunt Patsy could not be persuaded to go into the outer air. It was Sat.u.r.day morning when she began to dress for the trip, and although Isham, wearing a high silk hat, and a long black coat which had once belonged to a clergyman, arrived with the ox cart about noon, the old woman was not ready to start till two or three hours afterward. Her a.s.sistants, who had increased in number, were active and a.s.siduous. Aunt Patsy was very particular as to the manner of her garbing, and gave them a great deal of trouble. It had been fifteen years since she had set foot outside of her house, and ten more since she had ridden in any kind of vehicle. This was a great occasion, and nothing concerning it was to be considered lightly.

"'Tain't right," she said to Uncle Isham when he arrived, "fur a pow'ful ole pusson like me to set out on a jarney ob dis kin' 'thout 'ligious sarvices. 'Tain't 'spectable."

Uncle Isham rubbed his head a good deal at this remark. "Dunno wot we gwine to do 'bout dat," he said. "Brudder Jeemes lib free miles off, an'

mos' like he's out ditchin'. Couldn't git him h'yar dis ebenin', nohow."

"Well den," said Aunt Patsy, "you conduc' sarvices yourse'f, Uncle Isham, an' we kin have prar meetin', anyhow."

Uncle Isham having consented to this, he put his oxen under the care of a small boy, and collecting in Aunt Patsy's room the five colored women and girls who were in attendance upon her, he conducted "prars," making an extemporaneous pet.i.tion which comprehended all the probable contingencies of the journey, even to the accident of the right wheel of the cart coming off, which the old man very reverently a.s.serted that he would have lynched with a regular pin instead of a broken poker handle, if he could have found one. After the prayer, with which Aunt Patsy signified her entire satisfaction by frequent Amens, the company joined in the vigorous singing of a hymn, in which they stated that they were "gwine down to Jurdun, an' tho' the road is rough, when once we shuh we git dar, we all be glad enough; de rocks an' de stones, an' de jolts to de bones will be nuffin' to de glory an' de jiy."

The hymn over, Uncle Isham clapped on his hat, and hurried menacingly after the small boy, who had let the oxen wander along the roadside until one wheel of the cart was nearly in the ditch. Aunt Patsy now partook of a collation, consisting of a piece of hoe-cake dipped in pork fat, and a cup of coffee, which having finished, she declared herself ready to start. A chair was put into the cart, and secured by ropes to keep it from slipping; and then, with two women on one side and Uncle Isham on the other, while another woman stood in the cart to receive and adjust her, she was placed in position.

Once properly disposed she presented a figure which elicited the lively admiration of her friends, whose number was now increased by the arrival of a couple of negro boys on mules, who were going to the post-office, it being Sat.u.r.day, and mail day. Around Aunt Patsy's shoulders was a bright blue worsted shawl, and upon her head a voluminous turban of vivid red and yellow. Since their emanc.i.p.ation, the negroes in that part of the country had discarded the positive and gaudy colors that were their delight when they were slaves, and had transferred their fancy to delicate pinks, pale blues, and similar shades. But Aunt Patsy's ideas about dress were those of by-gone days, and she was too old now to change them, and her brightest handkerchief had been selected for her head on this important day. Above her she held a parasol, which had been graciously loaned by her descendant of the fourth generation. It was white, and lined with pink, and on the edges still lingered some fragments of cotton lace.

Uncle Isham now took his position by the side of his oxen, and started them; and slowly creaking, Aunt Patsy's vehicle moved off, followed by the two boys on mules, three colored women and two girls on foot, and by two little black urchins who were sometimes on foot, but invariably on the tail of the cart when they could manage to evade the backward turn of Uncle Isham's eye.

"Ef I should go to glory on de road, Uncle Isham," said Aunt Patsy, as the right wheel of the cart emerged from a rather awkward rut, "I don'

want no fuss made 'bout me. You kin jes' bury me in de clothes. I got on, 'cep'n de pararsol, ob course, which is Liza's. Jes' wrop de quilt all roun' me, an' hab a extry size coffin. You needn't do nuffin' more'n dat."

"Oh, you's not gwine to glory dis time, Aun' Patsy," replied Uncle Isham, who did not want to encourage the idea of the old woman's departure from life while in his ox cart. But after this remark of the old woman he was extraordinarily careful in regard to jolts and b.u.mps.

When the procession reached the domain of Miss Harriet Corvey, there was gathered inside the yard quite a number of the usual attendants on mail days, awaiting the arrival of Wesley Green with his waddling horse and leather bag. But all interest in the coming of the mail was lost in the surprise and admiration excited by the astounding apparition of old Aunt Patsy in the ox cart, attended by her retinue. As the oxen, skilfully guided by Uncle Isham's long prod, turned into the yard, everybody came forward to find out the reason of this unlooked-for occurrence. Even old Madison Chalkley, his stout legs swaddled in home-made overalls, dismounted from his horse, and Colonel Iston raised his tall form from the porch step where he had been sitting, and approached the cart.

"Upon my word," said a young fellow, with high boots, slouched hat, and a riding whip, "if here ain't old Aunt Patsy come after a letter! Where do you expect a letter from, Aunt Patsy?"

The old woman fixed her spectacles on him for an instant, and then said in a clear voice which could be heard by all the little crowd: "'Tain't from n.o.body dat I owes any money to, nohow, Mahs' Bill Trimble."

A general laugh followed this rejoinder, and Uncle Isham grinned with gratified pride in the enduring powers of his charge. The old woman now put down her parasol, and made as if she would descend from the cart.

"You needn't git out, Aun' Patsy," said several negro boys at once.

"We'll fotch your letters to you."

"Git 'long wid you!" said the old woman angrily. "I didn't come here fur no letters. Ef I wanted letters I'd sen' 'Liza fur 'em. Git out de way."

A chair was now brought, and placed near the cart; a woman mounted into the vehicle to a.s.sist her; Uncle Isham and another colored man stood ready to receive her, and Aunt Patsy began her descent. This, to her mind, was a much more difficult and dangerous proceeding than getting into the cart, and she was very slow and cautious about it. First, one of her great green baize feet was put over the tail of the cart, and resting her weight upon the two men, Aunt Patsy allowed it to descend to the chair, where it was gradually followed by the other foot. Having safely accomplished this much, the old woman e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed: "Bress de Lor'!" When, in the same prudent manner, she had reached the ground, she heaved a sigh of relief, and fervently exclaimed: "De Lor' be bressed!"

Supported by Uncle Isham, and the other man, Aunt Patsy now approached the steps. She was so old, so little, so bowed, and so apparently feeble, that several persons remonstrated with her for attempting to go into the house when anything she wanted would be gladly done for her.

"Much 'bliged," said the old woman, "but I don' want no letters nor nuffin'. I's come to make a call on de white folks, an' I's gwine in."

This announcement was received with a laugh, and she was allowed to proceed without further hindrance. She got up the porch steps without much difficulty, her supporters taking upon themselves most of the necessary exertion; but when she reached the top, she dispensed with their a.s.sistance. Shuffling to the front door, she there met Miss Harriet Corvey, who greeted the old woman with much surprise, but shook hands with her very cordially.

"Ebenin', Miss Har'et," said Aunt Patsy. And then, lowering her voice she asked: "Is ole miss h'yar?"

Miss Harriet hesitated a moment, and then she answered: "Yes, she is, but I don't believe she'll come down to see you."

"Oh, I'll go up-stars," said Aunt Patsy. "Whar she?"

"She's in the spare chamber," said Miss Harriet; and Aunt Patsy, with a nod of the head signifying that she knew all about that room, crossed the hall, and began, slowly but steadily, to ascend the stairs. Miss Harriet gazed upon her with amazement, for Aunt Patsy had been considered chair-ridden when the postmistress was a young woman. Arrived at the end of her toilsome ascent, Aunt Patsy knocked at the door of the spare chamber, and as the voice of her old mistress said, "Come in!" she went in.

CHAPTER VII.

When Lawrence Croft reached the Green Sulphur Springs, after his interview with Miss March, his soul was still bubbling and boiling with emotion, and it continued in that condition all night, at least during that great part of the night of which he was conscious. The sight of the lady he loved, under the new circ.u.mstances in which he found her, had determined him to throw prudence and precaution to the winds, and to ask her at once to be his wife.

But the next morning Lawrence arose very late. His coffee had evidently been warmed over, and his bacon had been cooked for a long, long time.

The world did not appear to him in a favorable light, and he was obliged to smoke two cigars before he was at all satisfied with it. While he was smoking he did a good deal of thinking, and it was then that he came to the conclusion that he would not go over to Midbranch and propose to Roberta March. Such precipitate action would be unjust to himself and unjust to her. In her eyes it would probably appear to be the act of a man who had been suddenly spurred to action by the sight of a rival, and this, if Roberta was the woman he believed her to be, would prejudice her against him. And yet he knew very well that these reasons would avail nothing if he should see her as he intended. He had found that he was much more in love with her than he had supposed, and he felt positively certain that the next time he was alone with her he would declare his pa.s.sion.

Another thing that he felt he should consider was that the presence of Keswick, if looked upon with a philosophic eye, was not a reason for immediate action. If the old engagement had positively been broken off, he was at the house merely as a family friend; while, on the other hand, if the rupture had not been absolute, and if Roberta really loved this tall Southerner and wished to marry him, there was a feeling of honor about Lawrence which forbade him to interfere at this moment. When she came to New York he would find out how matters really stood, and then he would determine on his own action.

And yet he would have proposed to Roberta that moment if he had had the opportunity. Her personal presence would have banished philosophy, and even honor.

Lawrence was a long time in coming to these conclusions, and it was late in the afternoon when he despatched his note. Having now given up his North Carolina trip--one object of which had been still another visit to Midbranch on his return--he was obliged to wait until the next day for a train to the North; and, consequently, he had another evening to devote to reflections. These, after a time, became unsatisfactory. He had told the exact truth in his note to Roberta, for he felt that it was necessary for him to leave that part of the country in order to make impossible an interview for which he believed the proper time had not arrived. He was consulting his best interests, and also, no doubt, those of the lady. And yet, in spite of this reasoning, he was not satisfied with himself. He felt that his note was not entirely honest and true.

There was subterfuge about it, and something of duplicity. This he believed was foreign to his nature, and he did not like it.

Lawrence had scarcely finished his breakfast the next morning when Mr Junius Keswick arrived at the door of his cottage. This gentleman had walked over from Midbranch and was a little dusty about his boots and the lower part of his trousers. Lawrence greeted him politely, but was unable to restrain a slight indication of surprise. It being more pleasant on the porch than in the house, Mr Croft invited his visitor to take a seat there, and the latter very kindly accepted the cigar which was offered him, although he would have preferred the pipe he had in his pocket.

"I thought it possible," said Keswick, as soon as the two had fairly begun to smoke, "that you might not yet have left here, and so came over in the hope of seeing you."

"Very kind," said Lawrence.

Keswick smiled. "I must admit," said he, "that it was not solely for the pleasure of meeting you again that I came, although I am very glad to have an opportunity for renewing our acquaintance. I came because I am quite convinced that Miss March wished very much to see you at the time arranged between you, and that she was annoyed and discomposed by your failure to keep your engagement. Considering that you did not, and probably could not, know this, I deemed I would do you a service by informing you of the fact."

"Did Miss March send you to tell me this?" exclaimed Lawrence.

"Miss March knows nothing whatever of my coming," was the answer.

"Then I must say, sir," exclaimed Lawrence, "that you have taken a great deal upon yourself."

Keswick leaned forward, and after knocking off the ashes of his cigar on the outside of the railing, he replied in a tone quite unmoved by the reproach of his companion: "It may appear so on the face of it, but, in fact I am actuated only by a desire to serve Miss March, for whom I would do any service that I thought she desired. And, looking at it from your side, I am sure that I would be very much obliged to any one who would inform me, if I did not know it, that a lady greatly wished to see me."

"Why does she want to see me?" asked Croft. "What has she to say to me?"

"I do not know," said Keswick. "I only know that she was very much disappointed in not seeing you yesterday."