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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3a7d2f5 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53838 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53838) diff --git a/old/53838-0.txt b/old/53838-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c958912..0000000 --- a/old/53838-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4245 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Virginia of Virginia, by Amélie Rives - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Virginia of Virginia - A Story - -Author: Amélie Rives - -Release Date: December 30, 2016 [EBook #53838] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIRGINIA OF VIRGINIA *** - - - - -Produced by MWS and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from -images generously made available by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - -[Illustration: “I--I--I LOOK A AWFUL FOOL--DON’T I?”--_page 125._] - - - - - VIRGINIA OF VIRGINIA - - A Story - - BY - AMÉLIE RIVES - - AUTHOR OF - “A BROTHER TO DRAGONS, AND OTHER OLD-TIME TALES” ETC. - - ILLUSTRATED - - NEW YORK - HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE - 1888 - - Copyright, 1888, by HARPER & BROTHERS. - - _All rights reserved._ - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS. - - - PAGE - - “I--I--I LOOK A AWFUL FOOL--DON’T I?” _Frontispiece_ - - “I CAN’T COME TO DINNER” 11 - - “AW-W-W POPO!” 43 - - ON THE TOP OF PETER’S MOUNTAIN 65 - - “I GWINE TAKE DAT DAR OUTLANDISH THING OFFEN YO’, HONEY” 139 - - “HE MUST ’A’ HAD A MIGHTY LEETLE CROP” 161 - - - - -VIRGINIA OF VIRGINIA. - - - - -I. - - -“It’s a girl,” said Roden, laying a wager with himself. “No; it’s a -boy. Hanged if it isn’t a girl!” He took his short brier-wood pipe from -his mouth, knocked out its contents against the side of the wagon, and -pocketed it. - -The time of the year was January, the scene a country road in Virginia, -and it was drizzling, a thick Scotch drizzle, abetted by a lusty east -wind. Even the branches of the straggling locust-trees that lined the -red road seemed clogged with it. It hung in folds upon the sides of the -mountains, and was blown in masses between the clefts of the rolling -meadows. - -Roden was not only a new arrival in Virginia, but in America, and -the impression made upon him had not, to speak very moderately, been -favorable. Coming from Washington, some one in the train had asked him -if it did not remind him of England. He had answered with some curtness -that it did not, demanding at the same time why he should be particularly -reminded of England by the state of the weather in Virginia. His -interlocutor had replied with the never-failing urbanity of the Virginian -farmer, that “anybody could tell he was an Englisher by th’ way he -talked, and them loose pants.” - -At the moment he first saw the figure alluded to, the owner of the -British accent and the “loose pants” was shivering in spite of the -top-coat turned up about his ears and the soft hat pulled down to meet it. - -It was indeed a girl; she wore a soft hat, the counterpart of his own, -fashioned of the same stuff as her dark-gray jacket and the kirtle -which reached just below her knees. On her legs were shooting-gaiters of -russet leather, decidedly influenced as to color by the tyrannic soil, -and on her feet stout cowhide boots. She carried a gun on her shoulder, -and a game-bag hung at her side. She further appeared to be bounded -on the east, west, north, and south by dogs. An old mastiff lounged -sulkily at her heels. Far in front, a collie gave chase to a stately -buzzard, which sailed away undisturbed by its pursuer’s shrill barking, -while an asthmatic pug sought a Juggernautal fate between the ponderous -wagon-wheels, and a little black-and-tan terrier, sniffing hither and -thither among the mist-drenched weeds, reminded Roden of the accounts of -certain mammoth ants as related by the credulous Herodotus. - -The girl, who had been walking with head bent, looked up as the creaking -of the wagon-wheels arrested her attention. - -“I beg your pardon,” said Roden, “but can you tell me if I am on the -right road to Caryston Hall? I think that’s the name.” - -She looked at him seriously for a moment, and then said, “Yes, you are. I -s’pose you’re th’ new Englishman. Are you?” - -“I suppose so,” said Roden. “My name is Roden. I have bought a farm -somewhere in this neighborhood, and it is called Caryston Hall.” - -“That’s it,” she said; “you’re right. My father’s th’ overseer there. Why -don’t you get down and walk? You look so cold. I’ll show you.” - -“Thank you,” said Roden; “I think I will;” and he jumped down beside her. - -Judging by her attire, he had at first thought her a sporting -country-woman of his own, like himself an exile in a far country; but -after she had spoken he found that the soft, slow intonation was strange -to his ear. “The overseer business explains it,” he thought. “She is a -native, and this language is Virginian.” In the mean time the girl was -also making mental observations. He was the third English gentleman she -had seen, though of immigrant Britishers she had known full threescore -and ten. She was thinking that he had spoken to her with an unusual -civility, and wondering how long it would continue. Civility this young -Virginian had not found to be a characteristic of the British settler in -her native State. - -“I’m very lucky to have met you,” said Roden, as they walked on, having -dismissed the services of the ancient wagoner, whom the girl addressed as -“Unc’ Dick.” “I would like to ask you some questions about the place, and -it’s awfully kind of you to go back with me.” - -She said, indifferently, and without lifting her eyes this time, “Oh, I -was goin’ back anyway! ’Tisn’t any bother.” - -Her long strides matched Roden’s exactly, and the rapid motion through -the stiffly yielding medium under foot began to warm his veins. They saw -the serpentine flourish of Unc’ Dick’s voluminous whip-lash outlined -against the pale sky as the wagon descended a hill just in front of them. -Two more buzzards appeared, slanting in still absorption towards the -west. Instantly the collie was after them. - -“Why didn’t you telegraph?” said the girl, suddenly. - -“I did,” said Roden, with some grimness. “I telegraphed twice. I also had -the pleasure of rereading both telegrams when I arrived at the station -about an hour ago.” - -“Seems to me,” she said, turning to look over her shoulder at the -mastiff, pug, and terrier, that were having a tow-row over an old -shoe (which same seem to be sown in lieu of corn in the thorns by the -Virginian way-side)--“Seems to me that letters reach us twice as quick -as telegrams, anyhow. You must have thought it funny we didn’t send for -you?” - -“I don’t know that I found it very amusing,” said Roden, truthfully, -adding, in a tone of helpless aggravation, “All my luggage was left -behind in Washington.” - -At this direct appeal the overseer’s daughter at first looked as -sorrowful as even Roden could have desired, bursting the next moment into -peals and roulades of laughter. Roden, after the first sharp inclination -to feel angry, joined in her mirth. - -“Pore feller!” she said at last, taking off her rain-soaked hat, on which -she appeared to dry her brimming eyes--“Pore feller! it all seems awful -to you out here, don’t it?” - -“It does,” said Roden in his heart, but out loud he replied with -mendacious civility that it did not. He was, moreover, occupied in a -close scrutiny of her uncovered locks. They were of a pale golden color, -lying close to her forehead in thick, round rings, after the manner of -a child’s, and clustering heavily, with the dampness. As he stood beside -her he saw also that she was very tall, taller than most tall women, -and that her fair throat, rising boy-like from a dark-red kerchief, had -unusual suggestions of muscle beneath its smooth surface. - -Presently they walked on. The top of a tolerably high hill was soon -reached, surmounted, as Roden at first thought, by an almost impenetrable -thicket. As they approached nearer, however, he perceived an aperture -in the mass of foliage, and a long wooden gate, hanging by one hinge in -an aimless, desultory manner, and ornamented also as to its dingy gray -with copious splashes of red mud. On either post were rusty iron vases, -wherefrom there sprouted two stunted specimens of the aloe tribe. One -of these vases, having been broken some years before, hung over to one -side with a suggestion of inanimate sentimentality highly ludicrous. Some -kind Samaritan had thrust a stick in between its disabled joints, thus -preventing it from utter downfall. - -The view beyond the gate was unique, and to Roden rather pleasant after -his morning’s experience. The lawn proper was shaped like a lady’s -slipper, and outlined by a gravel carriage-drive. It seemed as though -some Titaness might have set a careless foot among the surrounding -shrubbery, crushing out of existence all save a bordering fringe of -evergreen and acacias. The long, low house of red brick--with wings -out-spread after a protective, hen-like fashion in the direction of the -many out-houses--was to be seen through the bare branches of two splendid -tulip-trees. A little Alderney heifer was grazing near the portico, and -some dorkings stood resignedly on long yellow legs under the shelter of -the large box-bushes. - -As they worked along the sinuous carriage-way Roden looked with a feeling -of ownership at the glimpses of distant hill and forest, as visible -through the crowding tree-stems. Here he was to make his home for at -least the next two years, and he was glad not to find it so bad as he had -expected. - -As she opened the hall door the girl said to him, “Father won’t be here -until six o’clock. I’ll have you some dinner ef you want it. But you’d -better go to your room first, hadn’t you, you’re so wet?--I’ll send you -some things the larst Englishman left behind him. There’s a barth ready, -and plenty of towels. I’m used to fixin’ for you English, you see. Well, -good-by till you’re dressed; then I’ll show you over the house.” - -[Illustration: “I CAN’T COME TO DINNER.”] - -She sent a little “nigger,” who conducted him with wordless dignity to -the apartment allotted him, and who some five minutes later returned -again with the “last Englishman’s things.” That personage must have been -of very slight proportions and medium height, whereas Roden stood six -foot one in his stockings, and was of excellent figure. He struggled for -some time with the meagre garments, and then decided that he could not -put in an appearance until his own garments should be dry. At this moment -some one knocked at the door with the announcement--“Dinner rade-y.” - -“I can’t come to dinner,” said Roden at the key-hole. “The clothes won’t -fit me. Say I am very sorry.” - -The departing footsteps echoed down the narrow corridor that led to the -room which had been given him, and Roden, who had taken the silk coverlet -from the bed and rolled himself in it, stretched out before the fire of -pine cones in the big fireplace. The room was large and square, and had -hangings of faded green silk embroidered with tarnished gold. A ponderous -mahogany wardrobe, looking like nothing so much as a grim wooden -mausoleum, occupied nearly all of one wall. Facing this on the opposite -side of the room was a low chest of drawers, also of mahogany, with brass -lion-head handles. A square mirror in a wrought-brass frame hung over -it. The bedstead was low and wide, with foot-board and head-board of a -like height. Voluminous curtains of faded green fell from a mahogany -frame fastened to the ceiling, and were tucked back behind brass knobs -on either side of the bed. There was a huge pale-green paper screen -crowded into one corner of the room, and behind this Roden discovered a -bath-tub and a washhand-stand. One picture hung over the mantle-shelf, a -reproduction of the Madonna of the Chair, done evidently with a very hard -and very pointed lead-pencil, and faintly tinted with pink chalk as to -lips and cheeks. - -Roden lay in the soft embrace of his one Indian-like garment and stared -up at this work of art. He became fascinated in wondering how many days -it must have taken its indefatigable perpetrator to make the million of -little scratches that composed it. He wondered if it were the production -of generations past or present. Could Virginia herself have been guilty -of it? He thought not. At all events he hoped not. Her voice seemed -to put her beyond the pale of such possibilities. He recalled it to -his memory’s ear now, with a distinct sensation of pleasure. There had -been in it a certain rich sonorousness. It was grave, serious, soft -as the rush of the rain through the short grass without. A beautiful -voice attracts men always, even as the _timbre_ of a fine instrument -invariably attracts a musician. It is, so to speak, the overture to the -whole character. No; the pink-cheeked Virgin, with the slate-colored -infant tilted against her wooden and unresponsive bosom, could never -have been the work of the maiden in the Rosalind costume. Never, never! -Why, now that he thought of it, should the cheeks of the pictured -Madonna so blush? unless, perhaps, at the culpable drawing of her sacred -proportions. Why should she have been drawn at all? There was absolutely -no reason that he could discover. The pine cones crackled and blazed up -with a savory smell. The fragrant warmth stole pleasantly over the young -fellow’s relaxed limbs. The pink-and-gray Madonna faded slowly and surely -away in a golden haze. There was a pleasant humming as of a summer field -within his ears. Why did he seem to be pulling up a scarlet window-blind, -which obstinately refused to remain in position, in order to let three -large black sheep gambol at their pleasure about that imposing mahogany -catafalque? And why did the loss of a brass key at least three feet -long, and which seemed to belong to his hat-box, occasion him such acute -mortification when called upon by a very old woman in blue kid low-shoes -to explain its whereabouts? And why did--and why didn’t--and what on -earth made them all? Roden had not slept so soundly since leaving British -soil. - -He was awakened by a vigorous rapping at the door. He sat up and rolled -himself more tightly in the big green silk quilt. - -“Who is it?” he said. - -“’Tis yo’ clo’es,” replied a solemn voice. “An’ please, sur, ter dress ez -quick ez you kin, ’case supper soon be rade-y.” - -Roden admitted his once more dry outfit through a small aperture in the -door, after having inquired as to the time, and finding that he had slept -two hours. - -“Miss Faginia she say ez how she ben think you’d rayther eat yo’ -supper jiss so, ’thout sp’ilin’ it with er sorter dinner,” chanted the -monotonous voice without. - -Roden admitted that “Miss Faginia” had been quite right in her -conjecture. In half an hour he went out into the big hall, which, divided -by three arches, ran through the centre of the house. Over the first was -a fine moose-head. There were skins of many beasts here and there on the -slippery oak floor, and straight-backed chairs set against the panelled -wall, which some barbarian had painted white. A much-carved oak table on -one side supported a large silver flagon and two old-fashioned tankards. -On the other was an old-fashioned hat-rack, filled mostly with feminine -head-gear of various makes and sizes. A pair of branchy antlers supported -riding-canes of all descriptions. - -Guided by the sounds of a piano softly played, Roden opened a door on -his left, and found himself in a large firelit room, whose walls were -absolutely covered with pictures large and small, all in old Italian -frames, all more or less stiff and ill painted, all hung, regardless of -size or shape, as close to one another as they could possibly be placed. -The effect of the thus concentrated colors was, in spite of the defects -of the pictures themselves, quaint and jewel-like. Over the mantle of -carved oak reached upward to the ceiling an enormous square mirror in the -style of the First Empire. On one side of the room was hung its mate, -also in lonely grandeur, and facing the portrait of a very rosy dame in a -still rosier tulle dress, the whole suggesting in color the presence of -the all-pervading Virginian soil. - -Just under this second mirror was a piano, and at this piano was standing -the overseer’s daughter, striking idle chords with her left hand. - -She had taken off her Rosalind costume, and appeared in a blue homespun -dress, neat and scant of make, and with her two big braids hanging over -her shoulders. - -“Oh, it’s you!” she said, addressing Roden. “I was just trying th’ piano -to see ’f any ’v the keys’d stuck since the last Englishman left; but th’ -haven’t. D’you like music?” she went on, in her vibrant voice, which -seemed in some strange manner to harmonize with the firelight and the now -steady hum of the rain without. “I’ll tell you, before you say anything, -I can play very well.” - -Roden found her open conceit a very novel and amusing sensation, but when -she had struck a few chords firmly, her long fingers sinking in among the -keys as might the fingers of a miser among the gold coin that he loved, -he thought no more of anything save the melody that filled the room. - -“Gad!” said he, when she had ceased, “I should say you could play, -rather! Where on earth--who taught you?” - -“No one,” she said, absently, striking noiseless chords with her left -hand, and not looking at him. “I’ve heard people, and I do’t by ear. -And the men that’ve had th’ Hall’ve been awful kind ’bout lettin’ me -play--an’ that’s all,” comprehensively--adding, with sudden irrelevance, -“Were your clothes quite dry?” - -“Quite,” he assured her; “but they are beastly dirty to come to supper -in.” - -“I dried them myself,” she continued, taking no notice of his last -assertion. “Such work as I had, too! I really think if Milly hadn’t -helped me, you’d ’a’ been in--in--in your green silk quilt now.” - -She leaned forward for some moments, laughing, with her head against the -music-rack, so that the piano reverberated shrilly with the clear sound. -Roden laughed with her. - -“Who told you--the little nigger?” he asked. “And who is Milly?” - -She got suddenly to her feet, as suddenly becoming grave, and closed the -piano. - -“Milly’s one o’ th’ darkies,” she said. “Come and get your supper.” - -He followed her across the wide hall into the dining-room, and found that -supper at Caryston Hall was a very pretty meal. It was served on finest -but much-darned damask, by the light of six tall candles in silver -candlesticks, each ornamented by a little petticoat of scarlet silk, -which gave them the appearance of diminutive coryphées pirouetting on one -slender wax leg. A bowl of violets and primroses occupied the centre of -the table, flanked on either side by crystal dishes, filled, the one with -the pale amber of honey, the other with the deep crimson of cranberries. - -The overseer’s daughter poured out tea behind a great silver urn, while -on her right hand a monstrous cut-glass flagon foamed with richest milk. -“Positively artistic,” thought Roden, feeling a certain respect in his -British breast for this little maiden of Virginia who could evolve out -of her own country-bred brain effects so charming. “It’s a beastly -pity!” he told himself, though in what the pity consisted he could not -quite have told any one else, unless perhaps that a being so gifted with -a talent for instrumental music, and the setting forth of appetizing -supper-tables, should be hemmed in from further progress by the scarlet -soil of her native State, and should murder his sovereign’s language with -ruthless regularity by beheading some words and cutting the remainder in -two. - -He also pondered somewhat as to the way in which Virginian overseers and -their children expected to be treated by resident foreigners. He noticed -that the girl ate nothing herself, sitting with her hand in her lap after -she had poured out his cup of tea, and pulling idly at the frayed edge of -the table-cloth, with eyes downcast. He wished very much that he knew how -to address her, and was casting about in his mind as to how he might find -out her surname without being rude, when she answered him directly. - -“My name is Virginia”--she said “Faginia”--but it came softly to the -ear--“Virginia Herrick.” - -“They ought to have called you ‘Julia,’ Miss Herrick,” said the young -Englishman, gravely regarding her grave face. - -“Why?” she said, with her swift change from listless to alert--“why ought -they? It’s a hijeous name, I think.” - -“It isn’t very pretty--not near so pretty as ‘Faginia,’” said Roden, -gallantly; “but there was a fellow once called Herrick who was always -writing songs to ‘Julia.’” - -“Oh,” said the girl, with a sudden dawning in her sombre eyes, “that’s -the man wrote ‘To Daffodils’ and ‘Primroses’ and things, ain’t it?” - -“That’s the man,” he said. - -“Well,” she replied, slowly, “I don’t see why I ought to be called Julia. -Her last name wa’n’t Herrick, ’cause he wouldn’t ’a’ written those kynder -things to his sister, and a man wouldn’t ’a’ taken th’ trouble to write -songs to’s wife.” - -“Why?” said Roden, fixing on her his eyes, at whose blueness she began to -wonder in a vague way. Thus looking out from the young man’s sunburnt, -weather-marked face they reminded her of some vivid, sky-colored flower -springing into sudden azure among brown summer grasses. - -“Why?” he repeated. “Are all Virginian husbands so ungallant to their -wives?” - -“So what?” she said, contracting her level brows. - -“So rude, so careless of their wives.” - -“Oh, I reckon so,” she made answer. “I don’t know much ’bout men ’n’ -their wives. My father’s died when I was born, an’ somehow I don’t take -much to women, nor they tuh me. But I know ’nuff,” she supplemented, “to -know a man ain’t goin’ to make a fuss over ’s wife.” - -“If you ever marry,” said Roden, “do you think you will put up with that -sort of thing?” - -“Sho!” she exclaimed, rising and pushing back her chair, which made a -sharp sound on the polished oak of the floor. “I’ll never marry in _this_ -world.” - -“Well, you certainly won’t in the next,” said Roden, smiling broadly; -“that is, if you’re orthodox.” - -“What o’dox?” she said, pausing to question him, with one hand on the -table. - -“Orthodox--if you believe all that the Bible tells you.” - -“Well, I don’t,” she said, quickly; “not by a long sight. I don’t believe -all those things got into one place like that ark without killin’ each -other clean out. An’ I don’t believe those b’ars eat them children for -laughin’ at that ole feller’s bal’ head (I’ve laughed at many of ’em -myself, an’ no b’ars ’ain’t ever eat me; an’ if ’twas right then, ’twould -be right now). No, I cert’n’y ain’t or-or-orth’dox,” said Miss Virginia -Herrick, beginning to clear away the supper-dishes. - -“You’re not commonplace, at all events,” Roden told himself, as, after -having obtained her permission to smoke, he lighted a cigarette. -It was now past eight o’clock, and still no signs of the recreant -overseer. Roden occupied himself with putting many questions of a -more business-like character to Miss Herrick, as she moved about the -room restoring things to their proper places. He found that the little -petticoats which ornamented the candles were some more of the things left -by “the last Englishman;” and that the primroses and violets grew in what -was called the “greenhouse,” a narrow glass-fronted corridor reaching -along the front of the east wing of the house, and opening out of the -dining-room. - -He said he would like to go in to look at it, and she at once conducted -him there, carrying no candle, since a full-moon looked in at them -through the lattice of the winter trees. A thick soft air, spongy with -dampness, closed about them. The flowers rose dark and redolent on all -sides. Roden could make out the large, bunchily growing leaves of a -magnolia-tree outside, seen in rich relief against the dim sky. - -Roden, who had an artistic soul, found much pleasure in watching her. He -was beginning to think that in her own unique way she was beautiful, and -she was certainly shaped like a young caryatid. - -After she had answered various queries about house and out-house, niggers -and stables, they returned to the dining-room, and lifting one of the -tall candlesticks from a side-table, she opened one of the many doors. - -“I’m going to father’s room,” she announced; “’f you like you can come -too. Most of ’em” (alluding probably to the preceding Englishmen)--“most -of ’em liked to smoke there. I’ve got my spinnin’ an’ some things to do. -Ef you want to stay here, there’s books.” She made a comprehensive sweep -with her candleless hand in the direction of a low bookcase which ran -around three sides of the room. - -“I think I’ll come with you, if you really don’t mind,” said Roden. - -“Lor’, no!” she hastened to assure him. “But ’f you don’t like dogs an’ -’coons an’ things, you’d better not.” - -“Oh, I don’t mind ’coons and--and things,” said Roden, somewhat vaguely. -“I’ll come, thank you.” - -They went down a long hall, descended a little stair-way whereon the -moonlight fell bluely through a square window high above, down more -steps, along another passage with sharp turns, and in at an already open -door. An old negress, vividly turbaned, was heaping wood upon an already -immense fire. - -“Lor’, mammy!” called Miss Herrick, “for mercy’s sakes stop! ’F you put -any more wood on that fire you’ll have to get up on th’ roof an’ shove ’t -down th’ chimney.” The “’coons and things” were already crowding about -them. - -Roden recognized several of his canine friends of the morning, and -there were, moreover, two splendid old hounds, which at sight of their -evidently beloved “Faginia” set up a most booming yowl of welcome. -There were also the ’coon; a curious flat-stomached little beast, that -flew about after a startling fashion from chair to chair, and which Miss -Herrick introduced as a “chipmunk;” a corn-crake; a young screech-owl; -and three large Persian cats. - -All these pets, he discovered later, had been presented from time to time -by the “last Englishman,” or “the Englishman before the last,” or “the -Englishman before the one with the glass eye,” or the fat wife, or the -ugly sister, or what not. - -“If I can only add a gorilla or a condor to this unique collection,” -reflected Roden, “my position is assured. I will probably be forever the -‘last Englishman,’ and I will always be mentioned as ‘the Englishman who -gave me the gorilla.’” - -He then sat down in a corner as far removed as was consistent with -politeness from the other inhabitants of the apartment, and occupied -himself with watching “Faginia,” her “mammy,” and the “things.” - -“Aunt Tishy,” said Miss Herrick, indicating him with a movement of her -bright head, as he sat withdrawn into his coign of vantage, like a -hermit-crab within its shell, “that’s the new Englishman, Mr. Roden.” - -“How yo’ do, sur? Hope yo’ coporosity segastuate fus rate, sur,” quoth -the dusky dame, with an elephantine dab, supposed in the innocence of her -Virginian heart to correspond to the courtesy of civilization. - -“My what?” said Roden. - -“She means she hopes you are well,” explained Virginia, about whose neck -the raccoon was coiling himself with serpentine affection. - -“Oh yes, thanks, very well. Are you?” said Roden. - -“Gord! yes, sur; Tishy she _al’uz_ well--ain’ she, honey?” This last -appeal to Virginia. - -“Oh yes,” said that young woman “’cep’ when you get th’ misery, or th’ -year-ache in th’ middle o’ th’ coldest nights, an’ have me huntin’ all -over creation for somethin’ to put in your year. Oh yes!” - -“G’way, chile!” exclaimed the thus maligned personage, with an air of -indignant sufferance. “If I didn’ know yer wuz jess projeckin’, I sutny -would feel bade.” - -“Oh no, you wouldn’t,” said her mistress, easily. “_This_ one,” again -indicating Roden, “’s goin’ in fur horse-racin’. Some of his horses’s -comin’ day after to-morrer. That’s better’n Herefordshire cattle, ain’t -it?” - -“Co’se _you_ think so,” said Aunt Tishy, with something between a sniff -and a grunt, as she settled herself in the chimney-corner with a basket -of darning, and fell to work, stretching the stockings to be mended over -a little gourd. - -“Why, Aunt Tishy?” said Roden, beginning to feel as though he were a -character in a book, and might spoil the plot by saying the wrong thing. - -The old negress looked up at him over her big gold-rimmed spectacles, -with her great underlip pushed out, showing its pale yellowish lining. - -“Lor’! sur,” she said, “Miss Faginny’s plum crazy ’bout horses. Ev’ybody -on de place’ll tell you dat. I alwuz hol’s as how somebody done cunjur -her mar ’fo’ she was bown. Dat’s why she so run made ’bout horses. -Somebody sutny _is_ cunjur Miss Faginny. I’ll say dat with my last bref!” - -“Oh, shut up, mammy!” here interpolated Virginia. - -“I sutny will,” reiterated the old black. - -“Cert’n’y will what?” said Miss Herrick; “shut up? I’m sure I hope so, -and I know Mr. Roden does.” - -She rose and put down the raccoon, who immediately clambered up to the -carven top of an old oak press close by, and hung there, smiling genially. - -Virginia busied herself in getting out her spinning-wheel and winding -the distaff with blue wool. As she sat down to her spinning, with her -closely plaited fair hair falling into her lap, a novel thought suggested -itself to Roden, namely, that this blond maiden might be a Desdemona -dressed up as Marguerite, with the Moor concealed as her nurse. - -He watched with a strange sensation of unreality the whirring wooden -wheel, the soft falling of the blue thread upon the floor, the dusky -smoke-stained rafters of the room, wherefrom hung strings of onions and -red peppers in gay festoons; the old negress, wrinkled as to her black -face with busy absorption; the moving of the different creatures in -the sombre depths of shadow. Now it was the glint of the corn-crake’s -flame-like crest as he thrust an inquisitive head from his position on a -shelf over the mantle. Now the white gleam of the raccoon’s sharp teeth -as he grinned with an amiable persistency upon the room and its inmates. -Now the old hounds grumbled uneasily in their sleep, or the Persian cats -leaned against his legs with luxurious, undulating appeals to be caressed. - -“Why don’ yo’ sing, honey?” said Aunt Tishy; “yo’ know yo’ kyarn’ harf -wuk ef yo’ don’ sing.” - -“Yes, do sing, Miss Virginia,” said Roden. “A nig--I mean a darky song,” -he added, quickly. - -“What shall I sing, mammy?” questioned she. - -“Dat ’pen’s on whut kinder song de gen’leman wants.” - -“Well, what kind do you want?” she asked him. - -“Something characteristic,” he replied. - -Thus adjured, she sang to him, in a very rich contralto voice, the -following ditty: - - “Ole ark she reel, ole ark she rock, - Settin’ up on de mountain-top. - Ole ark a-movin’, movin’ chillun-- - Ole ark a-movin, I thank Gord! - - “Ole hyah, whut make yo’ eye so pop? - I thank Gord fuh tuh see how tuh hop! - Ole ark a-movin’, movin’, chillun-- - Ole ark a-movin’, I thank Gord! - - “Ole hyah, whut make yo’ legs so thin? - I thank Gord fuh tuh split ’gin de win’! - Ole ark a-movin’, movin’, chillun-- - Ole ark a-movin’, I thank Gord! - - “Ole hyah, whut make yo’ hade so bal’? - I thank Gord ben butt ’gin de wall! - Ole ark a-movin’, movin’, chillun-- - Ole ark a-movin’, I thank Gord!” - -Before Roden could say anything, she rose and put aside her -spinning-wheel, holding out to him her long shapely hand, which was -covered with tan as with a brown glove to within about an inch of her -homespun sleeve. “Good-night,” she said; “I’m sleepy. Father won’t be -here now till tuh-morrer. I s’pec’ he slept at Cyarver’s. Everything’s -ready--your barth an’ everything.” - -Thus dismissed, Roden took himself off to bed. As he dropped to sleep -to the tune of “Ole ark a-movin’,” he was conscious of uncomfortable -memories concerning haunted rooms in old Virginian mansions. Not that -he believed in ghosts--Heaven forbid!--but some one might--some little -nigger, you know--might play one a trick. - -He was roused suddenly and unpleasantly by three solemn raps on the door -at his bed’s head. - -“Well--what is it?” he said, in an unnecessarily loud tone. - -“’Tis me--Aun’ Tishy,” replied an unmistakable voice. “Please come to de -do’, sur, jess a minute.” - -He answered this appeal, opening the door cautiously an inch or two, -whereupon she thrust into his hands a little white bundle. - -“Dis heah’s fo’ yo’ to war tuh-night. Marse Gawge he don’ war no -night-shuts, and dey am none o’ th’ other Englishers lef’ none; so I -jess stole you one o’ Miss Faginny’s. Don’ say nothin’ ’bout it, please, -sur, ’case ef dar _is_ one thing Miss Faginny’s ’tic’lar ’bout, ’tis her -clo’es.” - -Roden took the long white garment gingerly, as men lift a young baby, -bade Aunt Tishy good-night, and closed the door. He then went to the fire -and began to examine what that colossal personage had inferred to be -“Miss Faginny’s night-shut.” - -It was a capacious arrangement of very thin linen, and superfine little -frills of a like material--hardly the garment in which an overseer’s -daughter would have wooed repose. The young man looked at it carefully -and gravely from all points of view, then went and hung it over the -mirror, and returning to bed, regarded it with the mute attention which -he had before bestowed on the drab-colored Madonna. It was a dainty -thing, probably a relic of some previous Englishman’s wife or daughter, -and the rosy light from the handful of fresh cones which he had thrown -on the fire stole in and out of its sheer folds caressingly. - -He left it hanging there, and the last thing he remembered that night was -its gleam, as of a pretty ghost in the firelit dusk of the big room. - - - - -II. - - -He could have sworn that he had slept but a moment when a terrific -squeaking and squealing, yelping and growling, under his windows, aroused -him with sufficient abruptness. - -His first idea was that the “’coons and things” were “killin’ each other -clean out,” after the fashion of Miss Virginia’s supposition in regard to -the Scriptural beasts in the story of the ark. - -Looking out, however, he saw that a large black and white hog was being -chased, nipped, barked at, and otherwise maltreated by the mastiff and -the collie. The frightened beast rushed hither and thither, squealing -and grunting, and the two dogs followed, falling over each other in the -eagerness of pursuit. After a while the mad trio disappeared to the -farther end of the long terrace. - -Dawn had just broken. The east was one deep even tone of mellow gold, -translucent, palpitating. Over against it lay gray streamers as of a -tattered banner. The morning-star seemed to spin with a cold blue glitter -as of ice in the voluptuous saffron of its setting. A band of trees -stood out against the vivid east, with bold relief of indigo leaves and -branches, like a gigantic tracery of unknown hieroglyphics. Over field -and lawn a white steam rose and melted slowly--blue hill and tawny meadow -appearing and disappearing as the pearly masses rolled together or -dissolved. - -Roden heard with supreme delight the confidential voice of a little -nigger announcing through the key-hole (their favorite channel of -communication) that his “trunks dun come.” - -He got with all speed through his ablutions, and, when his boxes were -brought, into a well-worn shooting-coat and knickerbockers, determining -as he laced his hob-nailed boots to “do” the farm thoroughly that -morning, and devote the rest of the day to mountain-climbing and -explorations generally. - -As he went out on the square portico at the front of the house he met -Miss Herrick, again in her boy’s dress, leading the mastiff and the -collie with either hand. She had evidently been to the rescue of the -black and white hog, and both dogs had a sneaky appearance, as though -they knew a flogging was in store for them. - -“Mornin’,” she said to Roden, with her grave directness of regard. “How’d -you sleep?” - -Before he could reply, a voice, rising in long, wailing tones upon the -chill air, interrupted them. - -“O-o-o-o Po!” it called; “O-o-o-o _Po_!” then a pause as if waiting for a -reply. Then again, “Aw-w-w Po-po! Aw-w-w _Po_-po!” - -“It’s father callin’ Popo,” explained Virginia. - -“Who’s Popo? Another nigger?” - -“Yes,” briefly. - -“What does ‘Popo’ stand for? Napoleon?” questioned Roden, much interested. - -“No,” she said. “’F you wait an’ listen you’ll hear. Father always calls -like that at first. ’F Po answers tuhecly he’ll jus’ stop. ’F he don’t -answer, father’ll jus’ go on callin’ till he says th’ whole name.” - -[Illustration: “AW-W-W POPO!”] - -Roden listened with absorbed attention. - -“O-o-o-o Popo! Popo! Popo!” rang out the voice, with angry staccato -insistence. “You Popo! Aw-w-w! you _Po_po!” Then, presently, “O-o-o-o! -you Po-po-cat-e-petl!” - -“Good heavens!” said Roden, bursting into laughter. “Is that really the -poor little devil’s name?” - -“Mh--mh,” said Virginia, with a nod of assent. “There was three of ’em -born all to oncet. One’s called Popocatepetl, an’ one Iztaccihuatl, an’ -one Orizaba. We call ’em Popo, an’ Whattle, an’ Zabe.” - -“That triumvirate ought to rule something,” said Roden. “Could a nigger -ever be President, Miss Virginia? What a lark it would be to speak of -President Popocatepetl! What’s the other name?” - -“Page,” said Miss Herrick. - -“Page!” echoed the young Englishman--“_Page?_ why surely that name -belongs to the ‘F.F.V.’s,’ doesn’t it?” - -“All the darkies took th’ name o’ th’ fam’lies they b’longed to after th’ -war,” she explained. “I had a cook here oncet called Faginia Herrick; -she used to b’long to father ’fo’ th’ war.” - -“By gad!” was Roden’s sole remark. “By _gad_!” said he again. - -“_You_ needn’t say nothin’!” she exclaimed, breaking suddenly into her -melodious laughter; “there’s two little right _black_ niggers at th’ -mill, an’ one’s called Prince Albert and th’ other Queen Victoria, ’n’ ’f -you leave off th’ ‘Prince’ or th’ ‘Queen’ they won’t answer you, neether.” - -She was evidently delighted with his expression of face at this, and -released the two dogs in order to indulge more freely in her mirthful -mood. She sat down on the stone steps, letting her arms hang simply at -her sides, and putting down her head, laughed into the hollow lap of her -gray kirtle, as though confiding her surplus merriment to its care. - -It was at this moment that the overseer came into sight--a tall, gaunt -man, with a beard that seemed flying away with his round head, after the -fashion of a comet’s tail; little steely blue eyes drawing close to the -bridge of his nose as though it magnetized them; long, crooked teeth, not -unlike the palings in one of his own fences for tint and irregularity; -and a wide-open square smile, like the smile of a Greek comic mask. He -wore a waistcoat of as many hues as Joseph’s renowned garment, a blue -cotton shirt, ginger-colored trousers tucked into heavy mud-crusted -boots, and a straw hat, impossible to describe, tilted to the back of his -head. In his arms he carried the little black-and-tan terrier which Roden -remembered, and twisted its untrimmed ears while talking. - -“Howdy? howdy?” he remarked, genially. “My darter Faginia’s tole me ’bout -you. Got all yo’ clo’es lef in Washin’ton? Hey? Got ’em this mornin’? -You don’ sesso? Well! My darter Faginia says as how you’re goin’ in fur -horse-racin’? That so? You don’ sesso? Well, what d’you think er my -darter Faginia, anyhow? Darter, go ’n’ bring me some water; I’m mortal -thirsty.” Then, as the girl disappeared, “Well, what d’you think er her?” - -“She seems to me very--very charming,” ventured Roden. - -“Well, sir, you ’ain’t got no more idea of th’ sweethearts that girl’s -had--I mean would ’a’ had ’f I’d ’lowed it. The las’ one was Jim Murdoch, -a hoop-pole man. But, sir”--here Mr. Herrick assumed a tone of the most -pompous dignity--“but I will tole you, sir, as how my darter Faginia -shall deceive _no_ retentions, _respecially_ from a hoop-pole man!” - -“A hoop-pole man?” said Roden. - -“That thar’s hit, sir, an’ I cert’n’y means what I says,” replied the -overseer, relapsing again into his former slipshod easiness of speech and -manner. “Consequently were, the beauty of the question air my darter -Faginia won’t get married twel she gets a mighty good offer.” - -“I should say you were perfectly right,” assented Roden. - -“Well, yes, sir; I should sesso. I s’pose you ain’t married, air you?” - -“No. Do I look very like a married man?” said Roden, who continued to be -amused. He thought the overseer almost as interesting as Virginia. - -“Well, no,” assented old Herrick, manipulating his abundant beard -with an air of deep thought. “But the beauty of the question air, you -kyarn’t al’uz tell. Them as looks the mostest married gen’ly ain’t. An’ -contrarywise, them as don’t, air--” - -“Married?” said Roden. - -“Well, considerbul, mostly,” said the overseer. - -Here Virginia returned with a gourd of water, keeping the quick-falling -drops from her father’s not too immaculate attire while he drank by -means of her skilfully hollowed hands. - -“Yo’ breakfas’ ’s ready,” she said over her shoulder to Roden. He went -in, and found it to be a slight variation on the last night’s meal. -There were some corn-meal cakes--batter cakes, Virginia called them--and -miraculously cooked mutton-chops. A half-hour later the overseer appeared -at the window to offer his services as guide over the farm. - -When Roden returned from his investigations it was one of the great clock -in the hall, and the sky like a vast blue banner overhead. - -He went out on the “front porch,” and called to Herrick as he crossed -“the yard,” with the little terrier at his heels. “Is there a good view -from that hill just back of the house?” he asked. - -“Mos’ people goes fyar crazy over it,” said Herrick. “Hit’s a right -rough climb to the top. Want tuh go up? Faginia kin show you. O-o-o-o-o -Faginia! Faginia!” - -Virginia appeared, clad from throat to heels in a vast brown apron, her -half-bare arms covered with flour, and her thick braids skewered across -the top of her head with a big wooden knitting-needle. - -“Makin’ bread?” said her father. “Well, yo’ kin get yo’ mammy to finish -that. Mr. Roden here he wants to go trapeezing up to th’ top o’ Peter’s -Mountain. I tole him you could show him.” - -“All right,” she said, briefly; “but I kyarn’t walk: the Alderney heifer -stepped on my foot this mornin’. I’ll ride if you like:” this last to -Roden. - -“By all means,” he said; “but if you do not mind, I had rather walk.” - -“Of co’se,” she said, and disappeared again. - -“The beauty of the question air,” said her sire, looking proudly after -her, “that gyrl kin ride like a Injun.” - -“She seems to do everything well,” said Roden, with a pleased -recollection of those mutton-chops which Aunt Tishy had confided to him -“Miss Faginia done herself.” - -“She cert’n’y does,” said Herrick, and after making some unique excuse -disappeared also. - -Miss Herrick appeared a few moments later, again clad in her boyish -attire, and mounted upon a fidgety little roan mare. She had slung a -wicker basket from the saddle, and Roden heard a merry clink as of glass -kissing silver when the mare sidled about. - -“That’s a clever-looking little nag,” said Roden. “Is she yours?” - -“Nuck,” said Virginia. “I reckon she’s yours; she goes with the place.” - -“I didn’t see her this morning,” Roden said, somewhat puzzled. - -“No; she’d gone to the shop to get a new shoe; that’s why. I reckon -you’ll name her over.” - -“Why?” said Roden. It seemed to him he had never put that monosyllabic -question so often before in the entire course of his life. - -“’Cause it ain’t very pretty,” Virginia explained. “Father named -her--it’s Pokeberry.” - -“Oh, I don’t know,” said Roden, laughing. “I rather fancy it. It’s -uncommon, to say the least. I don’t think I’ll change it.” - -“Well, there’s two others I _know_ you’ll change,” she asserted. “They’re -two carriage-horses, an’ they’re named Peckerwood an’ Hoppergrass.” - -“Capital!” said Roden, laughing again. “Change them?--not much! Shall we -start now?” - -It was a perfect day--perfect as only a day in Southern winter-tide -can be. The air was radiant, wine-like, while with a still further -suggestiveness little glittering insects spun around and around in the -sunlight like the particles of gold-leaf in eau-de-vie de Dantzic. -The roads, dried in some sort by the steady wind of the past night -and morning, were mellowed to a dull orange in lieu of their former -startling crimson. Infinite tones of faded browns and grays wrapped wold -and hill-side. The sky, of an intense metallic pallor, was covered with -gauze-like masses of wind-torn cirri. As they went on, a sycamore thrust -its bone-white arms before a dark hollow in the mountain-side, reminding -one of a skeleton guarding the mouth of a cavern, where during its life -it had concealed some treasure. The harsh call of crows, beginning in the -far east, passed in _crescendo_ above their heads, and died away as the -heavy birds flew westward. - -Virginia, apparently unconscious of his presence, was watching Roden -narrowly as he walked at her side. Owing to that peculiar faculty with -which only women are endowed, she was enabled thus to observe him while -seemingly absorbed in the sun-shot vista of the road before them. He -had taken off his coat, as the increasing sunlight and the exertion -of walking had overheated him, and his flannel shirt expressed damply -the splendid modelling of his supple body. She noticed how the sunburn -stopped in a line about his throat, the fair flesh showing beneath with a -girlish whiteness, as is often the case with very strong men. - -“It’s a heap whiter than mine,” thought Virginia. - -“I wish you’d sing,” he said, suddenly. “Will you?” - -“A nigger song?” said the girl, with a growing intuition in regard to his -wishes. She then sang as follows: - - “Bright sunny mornin’ - Nigger feel good, - Axe on he shoulder - Goin’ fur de wood. - Little piece er hoe-cake - ’Thout any fat; - White folks quoil - ’Case he eat all o’ dat. - Hop ’long, hop ’long, hop ’long, Peter, - Hop ’long, Peter’s son! - Hoppergrass sittin’ on a sweet-e’ayter vine, - Big tuckey-gorbler come up behine, - Hop ’long, Peter’s son. - - “One bright mornin’ John did go - Down in de medder fur ter mow; - Ez he mowed acrost de fiel’ - Great big sarpint bit him on de heel. - He juck it up right in he hand, - And back he went tuh Maury Ann; - ‘Oh, Maury Ann, oh, don’ you see, - One ole sarpint done bit me!’ - Hop ’long, hop ’long, hop ’long, Peter, - Hop ’long, Peter’s son.” - -Roden was delighted with her rich, reed-noted voice. She imitated the -negroes’ tones to perfection. The inflection and intonation were without -fault. - -“How well you do it!” he said. “It’s really awfully pretty. Can’t you -give me another?” - -She sang him one or two more, and ended by repeating in a singsong -fashion a little rhyme which convulsed him: - - “Mars’r had a leetle dorg, - An’ he was three parts houn’; - Ev’y time he strike a trail - He bounce up off de groun’.” - -“They make up all these things, of course?” he asked her. - -“Oh yes,” said Virginia: “they’re awful fond of ‘makin’ hymes,’ as they -call it. Here’s another: - - “Ef I had a needle an’ thread, - Big ez I could sew, - I’d stitch my ’Liza to my side, - An’ off down de road I’d go.” - -He amused himself by trying to sing some of the various ditties after -her, but, as they began to ascend the mountain, found that he needed all -the breath at his command. - -The dead leaves, sodden with the winter rains, closed in masses about -the feet of Pokeberry, and of the young Englishman as he tramped -untiringly at her muzzle. The shaft of a young pine rose slender and -virginal from the lace-work of bare trees, its plumy crest breaking with -lucent emerald the sea-blue reach of sky. A cardinal-bird flashed, with -unconscious contrast, against the neutral tints of the woody distance, -meshed as it were in the multitudinous glittering of sunlit twigs. From -the leaf-stirred silence, far in the heart of the forest, came the -urgent rat-a-plan of a woodpecker. Dead leaves occasionally, loosened -by the fitful wind, fell, turning slowly in their descent, now between -the startled ears of Pokeberry, themselves most leaf-like, now upon -Virginia’s skirt or hat, as she sat wordless, listlessly supporting the -reins upon her knee. - -They came presently to a narrow mountain stream, clear and brown, over -the sunken leaves. The sunlight through the swaying tendrils of a wild -grape-vine overhead sent dim but sharply defined shadows wavering back -and forth over its bright surface, as though, being spiritualized, -they breathed with a new life. A corn-crake, moving cautiously among -the withered water-grasses, thrust forward its gay crest and peered -inquisitively at them, whereupon the collie cleared the brook with an -arching bound, and set forth in mad pursuit of this new quarry. The crake -at once rose into the blue lift, with the harsh, derisive cry from which -it takes its name. - -After a while they came upon a log-cabin set in a little patch of cleared -ground. From a small window close against the roof flaunted a mud-stained -curtain of sacking. The red clay marks responded to a certain morbidness -in Virginia, by suggesting the wiping of bloody hands upon the coarse -stuff. There had been a murder some years before on this very mountain, -and thoughts of a grewsome sort were easily called forth in her when -remembering. A few black-and-white pigs of the genus “nigger” hurtled -squealing down the hill-side, pursued by the indefatigable collie, while -a little fawn-colored child, with whity-brown hair and purplish-white -eyes, stood in the door and apparently bit its thumb at them. - -“Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?” quoted Roden, cheerily, whereat the -little darky fled, with a shrill “Yah!” of mingled delight and terror, -into the bacon-perfumed room beyond. - -They were now stopped by some draw-bars, which passed, they found -themselves ascending a steep incline sown with large stones, as though -Jove and his giants might have had a sharp encounter just in that spot. -But having gained the top of the bluff, they came upon a view at which -Roden stood and stared in silent admiration. It seemed to him that he -had never before so entirely realized the ball-like character of the -earth. It seemed now to be swinging like a magician’s globe, imprisoned -in another of larger size, which was hollowed from some marvellous, -million-colored gem. - -The air had changed suddenly from balmy warmth to a strange damp -keenness, while the sky, which had cleared on their way up, was strewn -from east to west with the same woolly clouds which had at first covered -it. All above them was a lustrous monotone of gray, brightening towards -the east into a pale daffodil, and farther towards the south into a lurid -orange. From south to west a band of vivid violet-blue stretched solidly, -cleft here and there with wedges of pale light slanting in regular order, -like the bayonets of a vast army marching eastward. - -“That,” said Virginia, indicating the gorgeous phenomenon, “means rain.” - -“Oh, I think not,” said Roden, carelessly. - -“Very well,” said Miss Herrick. - -The wind blew ever stronger and stronger from the north, shifting -suddenly to the north-east. Virginia felt a heavy splash of water upon -her hand. She said nothing, but held it out to Roden in silence, and at -the same moment the wind, scolding like an old hag who has been deprived -by some adventurous urchin of her dinner, bore down upon them. - -“Never mind,” said Roden, “we are only about a quarter of a mile from the -top.” - -“Won’t you put on your coat now?” said Virginia, blinded by the blowing -of her hair into her eyes. - -He replied that he did not feel the need of it, and strode on a little -ahead. The wind sent his shirt in fine ripples across his back. One could -distinctly see the muscles at work beneath the flexible skin. Strength, -above all things, was what this little barbarian admired, and she saw it -now in a perfection which filled her with unconscious satisfaction. - -“My! couldn’t he double that braggin’ Joe Scott up!” she told herself. -“Whew! I’d like to see somebody make him right mad. Couldn’t he lick -’em!” - -As they neared the summit the gale became more furious. Roden was obliged -to lead the thoroughly frightened mare, and Virginia’s long hair, -becoming unbound, whipped with the sting of a lash across his face. -She recaptured and held it firmly with one hand, while he, furtively -observing it, thought it must be at least two yards in length. She -assumed a new phase in his eyes, wrapped thus in her plenteous tresses. -A certain boyish look, transmitted to her through the medium of the -short locks about her brow, had vanished completely. She looked like -some mountain Godiva hidden all as in a banner of cloth of gold. Roden -wondered if such marvellous hair was a characteristic of Southern women. - -They came at last to the one stunted apple-tree which crowned the noble -crest of the mountain, with an effect as bathetic as the scalp-lock of -an Indian brave. The wind screamed through the gnarled ground-kissing -branches with the sound of a gale through cordage. Pokeberry squatted -ignominiously in the fierce hurly, and put back her nervous ears, while -Virginia swung from the saddle. Once on the ground, she found that to -keep the perpendicular was a matter of some skill. She put one arm around -a mass of the tangled branches and looked up at Roden with a laugh, which -was seized and dashed down the steep declivity or ever it reached his -ears. He in the mean time having tethered the mare securely, resumed his -coat, and unbinding his covert-coat from the saddle, offered to help -the girl on with it. She looked at him in evident surprise, but made -no resistance. As she loosened the branches in order to put her arms -into the sleeves, which were whirling wildly, with an air of reckless -intoxication, a sharp gust blew her, coat and all, directly into Roden’s -arms. - -He laughed, disentangling himself as best he might from the wet bondage -of her heavy locks, but she, reddening vividly through all her clear, -sun-browned skin, gave her attention to the garment that he held. It -seemed to her a strange thing that he should offer to lend it. She had -been on rainy expeditions with many men, both English and Virginian, -while none that she could remember had ever before offered to protect her -in such wise from the inclemency of her native heavens. - -She looked down a little consciously at the weather-stained tan-color of -the little coat. She felt that it would be an insult to suggest to so -mighty a pedestrian the idea of taking cold; at the same time she was -afraid that such would be the memento he would bear away with him from -the top of Peter’s Mountain. As for herself, she was as accustomed to -wind and rain as one of the big oxeye daisies in her own fields. - -[Illustration: ON THE TOP OF PETER’S MOUNTAIN.] - -“There’s some sandwiches an’ a glass in that basket,” she said, or rather -shrieked, to Roden. He went to get them, tacking through the stiff wind -with much dexterity, and they partook of thin slices of Aunt Tishy’s -bread and Virginian ham with a heroic disregard of the downpour. All at -once they were confronted by a small ebon figure, hatless and breathless. - -“_Popo!_” said Miss Herrick; “what in the name o’ sense are you doin’ -here?” - -“Oh, Miss Faginia, Miss Faginia,” howled the little black, “de lightnin’ -dun gone thoo Marse Johnson’s house an’ kill he an’ he horg! An’ I wuz so -skeered ’bout you I jess took out an’ run up de mounting to see ef you -wuz all right.” - -“Well, I am,” said his mistress. “You pore little thing, how wet you are! -Come and get here under these branches.” - -The faithful Popocatepetl came and crouched on his heels at her side. He -was drenched to the skin, and his dark hide showed in patches through his -shirt of some thin white stuff, which elsewhere puffed out in irregular -blisters, like the wet linen in a washer-woman’s tub. From a strange -freak of nature, not unusual in these Virginian mountains, his knotty -wool was of a pale tan-color. It is a mistake to think that the little -negro perpetually grins. Nothing absolutely could have been more full of -woe and resignation than the expression of the young Popo as he watched -with Pokeberry the ceaseless flood that swept over hill and valley. - -Although comparatively sheltered, there still escaped through the tangled -apple-boughs moisture sufficient to prove extremely unpleasant. The large -drops fell heavy and monotonous, some into the furry hollows of the -mare’s flexile ears, causing her to toss her head with a swift impatience -of movement that set the little metal buckles on her head-gear tinkling -faintly, some upon Roden’s breast and hands, some upon the uncovered head -and cheeks of the girl at his side. She tossed her head once or twice -with a close reproduction of Pokeberry’s impulsive gestures. - -The surrounding mountains were by this time entirely blotted from sight -by the lead-colored sheets of wind-urged rain. The branches of the trees -on the slopes below them seemed living creatures, who, frantic with -alarm, tugged and twisted to free themselves from their native boles, -and to flee before the ruffian wind that assaulted them. Blown leaves, -like troops of frightened birds, were driven past in gusts. Not a sound -was to be heard save the ceaseless hiss of the rain on the hard ground, -the creaking of the tortured trees, and the fluctuating roar of the wind -above all else. Pokeberry, cowed and shivering, gazed wistfully down at -the swimming field below. - -The darkness had increased palpably within the last five minutes, and the -wind, raging downward through the stems of the tall pines on the eastern -slope of the mountain, made a sound like to the angry breathing of some -giant through his locked teeth. - -“That is almost wolfish,” said Roden. - -“There _was_ wolves in these mountains when my father was a little boy,” -she responded. - -Darker clouds seemed to be ever rolling up from the east, veined with -glittering threads of lightning, which pierced the irregular masses on -all sides like the fronds of an immense leaf. The trees on the slopes, -still wind-swept, seemed anon pale with terror or dark with dread as -their light and dark leaves were alternately tossed upward. Over against -the west was a dull citrine glare, like the smoke that overhangs a -battle-field on a sunlit day, reflected here and there in the slimy soil -and rain-roughened waters of a stream some way beneath them. - -Suddenly Virginia turned and swung out of Roden’s coat with one of her -swift movements. “Please put it on,” she said to him. - -“Why, no,” he said; “I don’t want it. I’m perfectly comfortable. I don’t -know why I brought it--unless from a happy inspiration in regard to you,” -he added, pleasantly. She turned from him, and stooping, wrapped the -shivering Popo in it. - -“They feel the cole so!” she said to Roden, standing erect again. “An’ I -never wrop up.” Roden did not know whether to laugh or to swear. - -When the rain had abated somewhat, and they returned to Caryston, he told -himself, as he soothed his inner man with some excellent Scotch whiskey, -that he “really rather liked it in the girl; but--d--n the little -nigger!--that was my pet coat!” - - - - -III. - - -Roden was the younger son of an Englishman of title. He was also what -is sometimes graphically described as being _sans le sou_. It was his -intention to try stud-farming in Virginia. No better horseman than Roden -ever put boot in stirrup. He had, as an old pad-groom once remarked, “a -genus for osses.” It was a mania, a fad of the most pronounced type, with -him. No woman’s eye had ever possessed for him half the charm that did -the full orbs of his favorite mare, Bonnibel, as she gazed lustrously -upon him over her well-filled manger. No sheen of woman’s hair had ever -vied, in his opinion, with the satin flanks of Bonnibel. What was it to -love a woman? Was it half the zest, the delight, of feeling a good horse -between one’s knees, what time the welcome cry of “Gone away!” makes -glad delirium in one’s veins, while the music of the spotted darlings -thrills air and soul? Roden would bluntly and unpoetically have informed -you that you were a “duffer” had you attempted to argue the point. He had -never cared much for women, either collectively or as individuals. They -had perhaps played too small a part in his life. “Egad, sir!” his father -had cried to him one day in a fit of anger, “you’ll grow up with a pair -of legs like pot-hooks!” - -Mr. Herrick informed him, on the second day after his arrival, that “the -beauty of the question were, he cert’n’y did have a mighty good foothold -on a hawse.” - -It was on that day also that most of the horses arrived from New -York--Bonnibel among them. She was as beautiful a daughter as Norseman -ever sired. Deep of girth, clean of limb, broad of loin, with splendid -oblique shoulders, bossed with sinew and muscle which quivered with -restrained power beneath the silky, supple hide; a small compact head -with ample front, over which the sensitive leaf-like ears kept restless -guard; great limpid eyes, a crest like a rainbow, and quarters to have -lifted Leander clean over the Hellespont. In color she was a rich brown, -touched with tan on muzzle and flanks, while the slight floss of mane and -tail had also flecks of gold towards the ends, like those in the locks of -some dark-haired women. Like her great-granddam, Fleur-de-Lis, she stood -full sixteen hands, but was neither leggy nor light of bone. - -“May I give her an apple?” said Virginia, as she turned her slow, dark -look from Bonnibel to her master. That sagacious damosel was already -reaching after the coveted golden ball in the girl’s hand, with cajoling -little movements of her soft nose. Having obtained permission, Miss -Herrick threw one arm over the mare’s graceful crest and presented her -with the apple--one of those renowned Albemarle pippins on which no duty -is demanded by England’s gracious queen. - -Bonnibel ate it with evident participation in her sovereign’s good taste, -rubbing her handsome head against the girl’s arm with an almost cat-like -softness of caress. - -“I don’ s’pose any one ever rides her but you?” said Virginia, with a -suggestion of wistfulness in her low voice. - -“Well, no,” said Roden; “only the lad who gives her her gallops. She is -as kind as a kitten, but rather hot-headed and excitable. Why do you ask? -Would you like to ride her?” - -“Yes, of co’se I would,” said the girl, calmly; “but you needn’t bother; -I know how Englishmen are ’bout their horses. Some time, if the boy as -rides her gets sick, if you’ll let me I’ll show you whether I kin ride or -no.” - -“Your father says you ride like an Indian,” said Roden. - -She moved her shoulders beneath her loose gray jacket with something very -like a shrug. “I don’t bleeve father ever saw a Injun in his life,” she -remarked. “You wait; I’ll show you.” - -“I don’t doubt you have a good seat,” said Roden, pleasantly; he took -particular pains to speak pleasantly always to Herrick and his daughter. -“But the chief thing with a horse like Bonnibel is the hands. How are you -about that?” - -“How do you mean?” she said, puzzled. - -“Why, have you nice light hands? Are you gentle in handling your mount?” - -“Oh,” she said, with the comprehensive indrawing of the breath which he -was beginning to recognize as one of her chief characteristics. “You mean -am I kind about yerkin’ ’em. Well, I’ll tell you: I never pulled any -rougher on a horse’s mouth in my life than I’d like anybody to pull on -mine.” - -“I wish some of my friends would take that for their motto,” said Roden. -“I’m thinking I’ll let you ride Bonnibel some time, if _she_ will.” He -ended with a smile. - -It was not more than a week afterwards that he had occasion to require -Virginia’s services. One of the other horses, a rank, irritable brute, -called Usurper, had jammed Roden’s shoulder quite severely against the -side of the box, and Bonnibel’s own especial groom had been sent back to -New York to bring on two new-comers but just arrived from England. - -“I don’t think she’ll stand a riding-skirt,” he said, rather doubtfully, -as the beautiful beast was led out, reaching after the reins with her -supple neck. - -“I ain’t goin’ to ride her with one,” said Virginia. - -He then saw that Bonnibel was saddled with a man’s saddle, and the next -moment the girl was astride of the mare, the reins gathered skilfully -into her long brown fingers, head erect, and hands well down--lithe, -beautiful with the beauty of some sunburnt, mountain-bred boy. - -As Bonnibel felt the strange touch upon her mouth she wheeled, rearing a -little, and the girl’s soft hat was shaken from her head. Roden wondered -if he had ever seen anything prettier than the sunlight on the young -Virginian’s sun-like curls, and the glossy hide of Bonnibel. - -The mare was going quieter now, mincing along and picking up her feet -after a fashion much in vogue among equine coquettes. She was beginning -to like the feel of the light, firm hands, and to be sensible of the -masterly pressure of the strong young knees upon her mighty shoulders. - -“By Jove! what a graceful seat the little witch has got!” Roden said -to himself with sufficient admiration. “And hands as steady as an old -stager!--Gad!” This exclamation, breaking forth at first from an impulse -of terror, ended in the relieved announcement, “That was fine; as I live -it was!” - -Bonnibel had bolted, going straight for a snake-fence at the bottom of -the hill on which the stables were builded. To stop her was, he knew, -impossible; to turn her aside on the slippery turf, more unreliable than -usual with the spring rains, would have been culpably perilous. The fence -just here was fortunately not very high, but Bonnibel had one serious -fault. When excited, she had a way of going at her fences head down, -after a fashion calculated to break her own neck, and certainly that of -the person who rode her. He saw the girl sit well down in the saddle, run -the bit through the mare’s mouth, and bring her head up, showing her the -leap in front with a skill he could not himself have rivalled; and Roden -was no tyro. Bonnibel cleared the rails in gallant form, and Virginia -then took her for a canter around the field beyond. - -She came up to Roden, ten minutes later, with flushed cheeks and her -great eyes brilliant. - -“If she had a-hurt herself then,” she said, flinging herself -tempestuously to the ground, “I’d ’a’ got one o’ th’ grooms to kill me.” -She turned and showered the mare’s sleek crest with kisses, then tossed -the reins to Roden, and ran swiftly out of sight towards the house. He -thought her the strangest creature he had ever seen. - -In the mean time the days wore on. Roden was more than pleased with his -Virginian venture. He had three excellent stables building, his gees were -all in first-rate condition, and his prospect for the provincial races -more than fair. - -Virginia now rode Bonnibel every day. There sprung up between the two, -mare and woman, one of those mutual attachments as rare in reality as -they are common in fiction. Virginia could catch the nervous beast when -it meant danger to others to come within reach of her iron-shod heels. -Virginia seemed to murmur a strange language into her slender ears, as -certain in its effects as the whisper of the Roumanians to their horses. -For Virginia would Bonnibel become as a spring lamb for meekness, or one -of her own mountain-streams for impetuosity. It afforded Roden a strange -pleasure to watch the relations which existed between this beautiful -savage maiden and his beautiful savage mare. - -On the other hand, he found the girl more than useful to him. She knew -all the owners of good horse-flesh in the surrounding counties. She -explored strange woods with him, while it came to be an understood thing -that every day she should go with him on his long tramps. She marched -sturdily at his side through brake and brier. She had no skirts to tear, -no under-draperies of lace to draggle. She was always good-tempered and -never tired. - -It was one day about the middle of March that they stood together on a -windblown hill-side. A dark-blue sky gleamed overhead, set thickly with -clouds of a vivid, opaque white, like the figures on antique Etruscan -ware. The chain of distant hills clasped the tawny winter earth, as a -violet ribbon might clasp the dusky body of an Eastern slave. So like was -the pale horizon to a sunlit sea that the white gleam of a wood-dove’s -wing across it suggested instantly to them both the idea of a sail. - -There was a sound, now far, now near, vague, intermittent, made by the -rushing of the wind through the dry grass in the fields. The forlorn -discord of the voices of spring lambs reached their ears, together with -the reassuring monotone of the ewes. A sudden commotion among the flock -caused Virginia to run suddenly forward, shading her eyes with her hand. - -“It’s that narsty Erroll dorg again!” she said, wrathfully. “He’ll jess -run those sheep to death.” - -“What dog?” said Roden, coming up beside her. “By Jove! it’s a German -sleuth-hound,” he added. “I’m afraid he’ll play the deuce with your -father’s sheep, Miss Virginia.” - -“He will so, ef he ain’t stopped,” she said, gloomily. “I didn’t know the -Errolls had come back to Windemere. Plague gone him! Look there, now!” - -Just here came the shrill sound of a dog-whistle, then a clear voice -calling, “Laurin! Laurin! Laurin, I say!” - -They saw a girl on a chestnut horse, galloping towards the terrified, -bleating sheep. She gained upon the great hound, came up with him, swung -from her saddle, and caught him by the collar. After a moment or two she -began to walk towards them through the weeds and brambles which overgrew -the hill-side. As she came nearer they could see that she held a lamb -beneath one arm. A tall, slight girl in a dark habit, with dark curls -escaping about her forehead from her very correct pot hat. The hound -followed meekly. “I am so very, very sorry,” she called out, while yet -some distance off. “I am afraid my dog has hurt this poor little thing.” -As she came closer Roden saw that there was blood on the lamb, and on the -dog’s dripping jaws. - -“Please look at it,” the girl said, wofully. “I’m afraid nothing will -ever break him. He will have to be sent away. They are your father’s -sheep, aren’t they, Miss Herrick--you are Miss Herrick?” - -Virginia lifted her full look to the stranger’s face. “Yes, that’s my -name,” she answered. “Why don’t you muzzle him, or keep him chained? -He’ll get shot some day.” - -The girl looked sadly down at her huge pet. “I’m afraid he will,” she -said, gently. “I wish he wouldn’t do it. I can’t feel the same to him. -Ah, you beast!”--this last to the recreant Laurin, in a tone of wrath. In -the mean time Roden had finished his examination of the lamb. - -“I don’t think it’s serious,” he said, kindly; “but it will have to be -looked after a bit. Miss Herrick here will doctor it successfully, I’ve -no doubt.” - -“Oh, couldn’t I have it?” said the girl, eagerly. “I’m such a good hand -at curing things. Do let me have it, Miss Herrick.” - -“Take it if you want it,” said Virginia. - -“But cannot you have it sent?” said Roden, as the girl held out her -hand for the lamb. “I am afraid you will get blood all over your habit, -Miss--” He had not meant to fish for her name, and stopped abruptly. - -She looked at him with a soft smiling of lips and eyes. “My name is -Erroll--Mary Erroll,” she said. “And thank you, I would rather take it. -Laurin will follow me now. _Ah_, you beast!” - -“You will have to put it down until you mount,” said Roden, laughing a -little in spite of himself, as the old lines about Mary and her little -lamb crossed his mind. - -“Oh no, I wouldn’t put it down,” she said, hastily. “Miss Herrick will -hold it for me, won’t you?--and if you would be so kind as to mount me, -Mr. Roden.” - -“You know my name?” said Roden, as he took the slight foot, arched like -Bonnibel’s crest, into his hand. - -“Why, who in the neighborhood does not?” she said, settling herself in -the saddle. “Not to know you would be to argue one’s self very much -unknown in this neighborhood. Now give me the lamb. Thank you so much. -Come, Laurin. Good-by, Miss Herrick.” She placed the lamb carefully -against her side, whistled to the hound, and started off at a round trot. -Her figure, in its trim Quorn-cloth habit, came into bold relief against -the vivid sky. He watched admiringly the long supple waist as it swayed -to the motion of the horse, the bold graceful sweep of the shoulders, -and high carriage of the small head. He had read so much concerning the -gathers and gilt braid of the Virginian horsewoman that it struck him -as something entirely strange, the fact that Miss Mary Erroll should -wear a neat, well-cut habit, and a chimney-pot hat. He also recalled -that her saddle was all that it should be, and that instead of the -gold-and-ivory-handled cutting whip which he had been led to expect, she -carried a light but sturdy crop. - -“By Jove! how she rides!” he said to himself. - -“Don’t I ride as well?” came the soft monotone of Virginia at his ear. - -He answered her, still with his eyes on the vanishing figure of the girl -in the Quorn-cloth habit. “You ride like an Arab,” he said. “She rides -like--like--like an Englishwoman.” - -“You don’t think I ride as well,” said Virginia, in an indescribable -voice, turning away. She was filled with an unreasoning, unchristian, -wholly uncivilized desire to mount Bonnibel, overtake, and spatter -Miss Mary Erroll with as much mud as possible. Suddenly she turned and -came back to Roden. “I--I--I s’pose you think a gyrl oughtn’ to ride -straddle?” she said, with an unusual hint of timidity in her rich tones. - -“Oh, I don’t know that there’s any harm in it,” he said, carelessly. -Again she stood away from him. A feeling of utterly unreasonable anger -and rebellion was swelling in her heart and straining her throat. Was it -against Miss Mary Erroll or against Roden? She could not herself have -told. One fact was entirely apparent to her: he did not deem what she did -or did not do things worthy his consideration. - -“I bet she couldn’t ride Bonnibel!” she said, passionately, between her -locked teeth, as she went blindly on through the furze and briers. “I -bet she couldn’t ride Bonnibel--straddle or no straddle!” - -It was not until three days later that she found out from her father the -fact of Roden’s having been to call (nominally) upon the lamb of Miss -Mary Erroll. - -“The beauty of the question air,” ended that modern Solomon, as he filled -his white clay pipe--“The beauty of the question air, that thar gyrl -cert’n’y is goin’ to lead that young fellar a darnce. They say she’s got -it down ter a fine p’int.” - -“What?” said Virginia, curtly. - -“Why, coquettin’--hyah! hyah! _That’s_ the darnce she’ll lead _him_. ’N’ -they sez, moresomever, as how th’ English fellars takes to her like the -partridges ter th’ woods--plague ’em!--’count o’ her w’arin’ boots like -a man, an’ skirts at harf-marst when she goes out on hawseback. Lawd! I -cert’n’y do ’spise ter see a woman hitched onter th’ side uv er hawse -like a pecker-wood a-stickin’ ter rer tree-trunk!” - -Virginia came and leaned on the back of his chair, picking some bits of -straw from his many-hued waistcoat. “You don’t think it’s any harm for a -girl to ride straddle, do you, father?” she said, slowly. - -“Harm!” said old Herrick, twisting about in his chair to look up at -her--“_harm!_” He set his pipe firmly between his teeth, and pushed out -his underlip with an expression of entire scorn. “Is there any harm in -a hoppergrass hoppin’?” he questioned. “G’long! don’ talk none o’ yo’ -nonsense ter me!” - -This, however, did not entirely satisfy her on the question in point. - -Roden was not a little astonished to meet her, as she returned from -giving Bonnibel her morning gallop, in a very fair imitation of Miss Mary -Erroll’s habit, and an old pot hat that had evidently belonged to some -one of the previous Englishmen. - -“Why, what a swell you are!” he said, pleasantly, joining her. “But how -does Bonnibel like the change?” - -“It don’t make any diff’r’nce how she likes it,” said Miss Herrick, -curtly, adding hastily, with a swift change of manner, “She r’ared once -or twice at first, but that’s all.” Then she stopped suddenly, and -stepped around in front of him. “How--how does it look--really?” she -said, with a shamefaced and comprehensive downward glance at her skirt. - -“It looks awfully well,” Roden assured her--“awfully well. How tall and -strong you are, Miss Virginia!” - -“I’ve got a right good mustle,” she said, showing her handsome teeth in -one of her rare and vivid smiles. “Mornin’: I’ve got a heap to do.” - -Roden watched her as she stalked away with her splendid swinging stride, -thinking vaguely of her beauty and its absolute waste in her position. -“She’ll marry some ‘po’ white’ who talks as much like a nigger as her own -father,” he thought, half regretfully; “have a lot of children, and end -by smoking a pipe--ugh!” He then went to call, for the third time that -week, upon Mary Erroll. The visit ended by their going for a ride, and -just as they neared the gates of Caryston a smart shower came pelting -down the eastern slope of Peter’s Mountain. - -“Do come in and wait until this is over,” he said, urgently, bending from -his horse to open the long gray gate, which was now proudly supported on -strong hinges. “Miss Herrick will chaperon us.” - -“Why, of course I’ll come,” she said, amazed, in her Southern freedom, -that he should pause to question the propriety of her so doing. At one -o’clock in the day, and with her little darky henchman mounting guard, -what possible objection could any one find? She ran up the stone steps -with a pretty clattering of her boots, and Roden threw wide the doors -of the great hall. She was delighted with everything; got on a chair to -examine the great moose-head; struck some chords on an old harp that she -discovered in a dark corner; made friends with the collie and one of the -Persian cats, who came purring up from the recess of a distant window; -looked over his collection of curious weapons; and on finding that he -had spent some years of his life in Mexico, questioned him about his -experiences there with a pretty assumption of almost motherly interest. - -“Can’t you say some--some Mexican?” she said. “I should so like to hear -it.” - -“I love you, most beautiful of maidens,” said Roden, lazily, in the -Mexican patois. - -“What does that mean? It sounds enchanting.” - -“It means enchantment.” - -She leaned suddenly forward and looked at him with her bright, soft, -childishly chaste eyes. “Mr. Roden,” she said, sweetly, “if I were not -very sure you were only laughing, I should accuse you of trying to -ensnare my simple country soul with a spurious sentimentality.” - -Roden roused himself from his lounging position in one of the big hall -chairs with a jerk. An expression half of amusement, half of guilt, -crossed his handsome sunburnt face. “You are very unjust,” he said. “I am -certainly not laughing, and I couldn’t be sentimental if I tried.” - -“Oh! oh!” she said, with her pretty Southern accent. “How very, how -rudely unflattering!” - -“I meant I would not have to try to be so--with you,” said Roden, -dexterously mendacious. - -“How very, how rudely untruthful!” - -They were here told by Popocatepetl that “lunch dun rade-y.” - -Roden’s meals were generally presided over by Virginia, and she came -forward to meet him now with a little silver dish of apples in one hand, -evidently utterly ignorant of the presence of Mary Erroll. She stopped -short, half-way across the room. A shadow as definite and sombre as the -shadow from a brilliant cloud upon a laughing grass-field in May settled -over her face. - -“I’ll have to fix another place,” she said, curtly, and turned her back -upon them in order to do so. - -Miss Erroll expressed herself charmed with her luncheon. She ate bread -and honey with all the gusto of the queen of nursery lore, taking off her -riding-gloves and showing long, flower-like hands, that were reflected as -whitely in the polished mahogany of the round table as the pale primroses -which adorned its centre. - -Virginia moved about noiselessly. All at once she stopped beside Roden, -and put one hand heavily on the back of his chair. He looked up in some -surprise. Her eyes were flashing under her bent brows, like the “brush -fires” of her native State under a night horizon. - -“I’ll wait on _you_,” she said, in a smothered voice--“I say I’ll wait on -_you_, _but I won’t wait on her_.” She dashed down his napkin, which she -had lifted from the floor, and strode with her swift, noiseless movements -to the door. - -“Virginia!” said Roden, aghast--“Virginia!” - -“I don’t care!” cried the girl, passionately, swinging open the heavy -door--“I don’t care! I ain’t anybody’s nigger!” - -She rushed out tempestuously, dragging from one or two rings the heavy -portière, which with a native incongruity hung before the door itself. - -“How vulgarity will crop out!” said Roden, rising to shut the door. “That -poor little girl has behaved so well until to-day!” - -That evening, as he sat writing in a little room opening into the -dining-room, Virginia entered, and came and stood beside him. He did not -look up. She had annoyed him a good deal, and he was not prepared to -yield the forgiveness for which he felt she had come to plead. She stood -there some moments quite silent, then reached over his shoulder and -dropped something on the table before him. - -“You said th’ other day you wanted one for the silver. There ’tis,” she -said. She turned before he could speak, and left the room. - -Lifting the crimson mass from the table, he saw that it was an -old-fashioned purse of netted silk, secured by little steel rings. He -recalled a speech which he had made a day or two ago concerning the -inconvenience of modern purses as regarded silver currency. He started up -and opened the door, calling the girl by name two or three times. No one -answered, and he went down the hall and into Herrick’s room. - -The overseer was there, whittling something by the light of a smoking -kerosene lamp. Aunt Tishy was there, grumbling to herself about “folks -cuttin’ trash all over de flo’ fur her ter break her pore ole back over.” -The raccoon was very much there, as he seemed to be having a fit just as -Roden entered. But there was no Virginia. Her spinning-wheel stood idle -in its corner; her heavy boots were drying in front of the wood fire; -there was a book, face down, upon the deal table--a book which she must -have been reading, as no one else at Caryston besides Roden ever glanced -between the covers of one. - -He lifted it, expecting to find some Dora-Thornesque romance of high -life. It was a condensed copy of “Youatt on the Horse,” and beneath it -was a racing calendar for ’79. Alas! alas! even this discovery told -nothing else to this otherwise discerning young man. He smiled as he put -down the volumes, thinking that the little Virginian was bent on making -him acknowledge her a superior horsewoman in all respects. - -He then inquired of Herrick as to the whereabouts of Virginia. Neither -the girl’s father nor Aunt Tishy could tell him. - -“If you’ll lend me a pencil I’ll just leave a note for her,” he said, -feeling instinctively that she would not care to have a message in -regard to her little gift left with her father or the old negress. - -He scribbled a few words on one of the fly-leaves of the racing calendar, -tore it out, folded it securely, and handed it to Herrick. - -“Please give that to your daughter when she comes back,” he said. -“Good-night,” and left the room. - -Old Herrick waited until he heard the distant clang of the dining-room -door; then he settled his spectacles very carefully upon his large nose, -pushed out his underlip, and unfolding the little note, thrust it almost -into the flame of the lamp while reading it. - - “‘DEAR MISS FAGINIA’ (Humph!),--Many thanks fur yo’ beeyeutiful - purse. I will alluz keep hit. Very truly yours, - - “‘J. RODEN.’” - -“Humph!” ejaculated Herrick again--“humph!” - -He set one long, knotty hand back down against his side, and turned the -bit of paper about scornfully between the thumb and forefinger of his -other hand, regarding it the while over his spectacles. “Humph!” he said -for the fourth time. - - - - -IV. - - -It was one o’clock on that same night Virginia Herrick leaned with round -bare arms on the table, above which hung a little oblong, old-fashioned -mirror in a warped mahogany frame. The one candle on a little bracket at -her right hand, brought out the clear tones in her face and throat and -arms, and dived vividly into her masses of loosened hair; beyond her was -a background of vague shadows; she looked from the tarnished mirror like -a painting from its frame. Her eyes were sombre and heavy under their -dark lids. The light falling down upon her sent long delicate shadows -trembling upon her cheeks--shadows such as are made by the bending of -summer grasses across a woman’s white gown, and which in Virginia’s case -were cast by her thick, curled lashes. - -She had taken off the waist of her homespun dress, and the folds of her -much-gathered chemise assumed a silvery tone in the concentrated light. -The contrast between the dead white of the stuff and the living white of -her neck and arms was as perfect as when Southern peach-trees, blossoming -before their time, are seen next day against vast fields of snow. - -One of the Persian cats leaped with soft agility upon the table, and -passed purring between the girl and her fair image in the dingy glass; -she swept him from her way with one sure motion of her strong bare arm, -and returned to her intent scrutiny of her own face. - -The time passed on. A rat began an intermittent nibbling in the old -wainscoting of the room; sharp, sudden noises were heard overhead; the -fire died out in tinkling silence; a heavy shroud of semi-transparent -tallow wrapped the one candle. Two o’clock had sounded through the -hollow depths of the old house some time ago. Suddenly she spoke. -“I wisht I knew ef I war pretty,” she said. Then, with passionate -reiterance, “I _wisht_ I knew ef I war pretty.” - -The cat, hearing her voice, leaped again beside her, as if to answer; -again she swept him to the floor. The soft, cushioned thud of his feet -against the bare boards sounded quite distinctly upon the silence, so -alert to catch every noise. “Oh, I wisht--I _wisht_ I knew ef I war -pretty,” she said once more. - -Poor little savage, you are pretty indeed--with a prettiness which -civilization would give many of its privileges to possess. So, I doubt -not, were fashioned the wood-nymphs of old, with strength and with health -and with grace beyond all power of reproduction--even so have they gazed -deep into their woodland lakes; and the lakes, did they not answer? Who -but Beauty was ever mother of such curves and tints? - -This time she put another question. “I wisht I knew -ef--it--pleased--_him_.” - -She had yielded up her secret to the old mirror, and to Hafiz--what -better confidants? The one had no tongue; the other a tongue used only -for lapping unlimited supplies of Alderney cream. - -With a sudden movement she leaned forward and blew out the sputtering -candle. She did not wish even her own eyes in the mirror to pry upon her. - -Three days later Roden and Usurper figured in a hurdle race of some note -in the neighborhood. - -This Usurper was by King Tom, out of Uarda, and as rank a brute as ever -went headlong at his hurdle, often taking off nearly a length too soon. -Virginia, who had seen him day after day at his work, ventured timidly to -suggest to Roden that one of the lads should ride the horse. He laughed, -and told her he had thought her above that very ordinary failing of -women--nervousness. She said nothing more, turning short on her heel -with the customary dissenting movement of her fine shoulders. - -These races were to be quite a swell affair, and there were a good many -carriages outside of the course. Miss Erroll and her mother, sunk deep in -an old-fashioned landau, talked to Roden as he leaned on the side of the -carriage, very brown and gallant in his racing-togs. - -Virginia was seated on Pokeberry, not three yards off. She watched -curiously each movement of Miss Erroll, dwelling with strained, wondering -eyes upon her pretty wrinkled gloves; her close-fitting corsage of white -serge; her little dark-red velvet toque; her parasol, a vivid arrangement -of cream-color and red, which made a charming plaque-like background for -her fair face; she also noticed the posy of blue and white flowers which -was pinned on the left side against the white bodice of Miss Erroll. -Roden’s colors were blue and white. Virginia herself had a little knot of -white and blue hyacinths on her riding-habit; she jerked them out with -a savage movement, tossed them on the ground, and carefully guided the -hoofs of Pokeberry upon them. - -All unconscious was she that in her eyes, blue now with anger, and her -cheeks so white with pain, she wore his colors whether she would or not. - -There were two races before the one in which he rode. Then he went off -to be weighed, and Virginia dismounted from Pokeberry, and gave a little -nigger a cent or two to hold the mare. - -She went and leaned against the railing, waiting for the start. All went -well enough until the finish. Roden came sweeping down the homestretch in -an easy canter, Usurper well in hand and going game as a pebble, and one -more hurdle to jump. - -Virginia held her breath; she had a horrible certainty that Usurper -would refuse that last hurdle, or do something equally idiotic. Roden -sent him at it in fine form. There was a second of expectancy, a smart -crash, and then Usurper, scrambling heavily to his feet, tore off down -the course, leaving a mass of blue and white half under the débris of the -hurdle. The brute had not risen an inch, and had flung Roden headfirst -into the hurdle, himself turning a complete somersault. - -On came the other horses, ten of them, in full gallop. Mary Erroll stood -on her feet, with a little broken cry. Some men, until now paralyzed -with astonishment and horror, started forward; but swifter than all, -unhesitating, strong of arm as of nerve, Herrick’s daughter, diving -beneath the rail, rushed out into the middle of the track, and seizing -the senseless man beneath his arms dragged him by main force out of the -way of the coming horses. The hoof of one of them, however, struck her on -her left shoulder, taking a good bit of flesh and cloth clean away as -though with a knife. - -There was a good deal of blood about Roden’s head--some at first thought -that he was seriously injured. They carried him into a tent and sent for -a surgeon. In an hour he was all right, however, and wrote a few words -upon some little ivory tablets, sent him by Miss Erroll for that purpose, -to assure her of his entire recovery. Mary then sent to ask if Miss -Herrick would not be so very kind as to come and speak to her. The girl -came, sullenly enough, touching from time to time the bandages about her -left shoulder, as though restless under even so slight a restraint. - -“I want to thank you so very, very much,” said Mary, in her sweetest -voice. She leaned far out of the landau and held out her hand to Virginia. - -“What a’ _you_ thankin’ me fur?” demanded the girl, fiercely, stepping -backward from the extended hand. “_You_ ain’t got nothin’ to thank me -fur--have you?” she ended, with a sudden change from aggressiveness to -appeal infinitely pathetic. - -A swift red had dyed Mary’s face at the first reception of her kindly -meant advances. It faded out now, leaving her very pale. - -“Every one who is a friend of Mr. Roden ought to thank you, if they do -not,” she said, with great dignity. “I am sorry I spoke, since it has -been so disagreeable to you. Good-morning.” - -Virginia was dismissed--she felt it. The knowledge went scorching through -her veins as kirsch through the veins of one not accustomed to its fire. -She hated the girl with a mad, barbaric impulse, which was as much beyond -her control as its tides are beyond the control of the ocean; she felt an -animosity to Miss Erroll’s very hat, to her pretty parasol with its bunch -of red velvet ribbons on the bamboo handle. She would have liked to seize -and tear them to pieces, as a humming-bird tears the flower which has -refused its honey. A red mist rose to her eyes. The Erroll carriage and -its occupants seemed to be melting away and away in a golden haze. She -stepped backward, keeping her eyes on it, as a fascinated bird looks ever -on the serpent that has charmed it. - -“I hate her--I hate her--I hate her,” she said, back of her teeth, not -fiercely, as she had at first spoken, but with a dull assertiveness. - -She refused several offers from kindly neighbors who would have driven -her home. She could ride quite well, she said, without using her left arm. - -The evening was lowering and purple towards the north-east, full of -vague shadows and noises of homeward creatures. The west was aglare as -with floating golden ribbons from some mighty, unseen Maypole behind the -luridly dark mountains. - -The slanting light touched the crests of the clods in a newly ploughed -field to her left with a vivid effect, remindful of the light-capped -wavelets on an evening bay. Farther on it was long, glistening stalks of -fodder which caught the level gleaming from the west, as might the rifles -of a regiment that has been ordered to fire lying down. The fresh green -hollows of the hills were full of a palpable golden ether, like cups of -emerald brimmed with the lucent amber drink of other days. - -A leather-winged bat brushed against her cheek, flying heavily into some -broom-straw just beyond. She saw nothing, felt nothing, heard nothing -beyond the dark hours ahead of her, the heavy aching of her heart, and -its loud monotonous beating, to which she unconsciously set words as one -does to the iterant chatter of a clock. - -“Yes, he loves her--yes, he loves her,” so it seemed to say, over and -over, again and again. Almost she could have torn it from her breast -and flung it from her, had not it been sacred to her for the love of -him with which it was filled. Think of it; try to imagine it. A woman -fully developed, heart and body full of the South from bright head to -nimble feet, as the South is full of beauty; free as the birds that -cleaved her native air with strong, untiring wings; unlearned in all -emotion whether of love or of hate; not weary in sense or perception; -untutored, unknowing, uncivilized--and loving for the first time in all -her one-and-twenty years of living! - -There was no analysis here, no picking to pieces of little emotions, -no skewering of butterfly passions to sheets of paper from the book of -former knowledge. No comparison between then and now--between now and -what might possibly have been had the bits of glass in the kaleidoscope -of existence assumed a certain difference of juxtaposition. She loved -him. Why she loved him, how she loved him, she could no more have told -you than she could have told the names of the different elements which -composed the tears with which her hot eyes brimmed. - -It was seven o’clock of that same evening. Roden, restless and feverish, -flung from side to side on an old leathern sofa in the library. There -were no candles, but a great fire of chestnut-wood sought and found all -such points as were capable of illumination in the sombre old room--the -brass claw feet of the tables and chairs, the great brass hinges of the -rosewood bookcase, the glass knobs on an old writing-desk in one corner, -Roden’s eyes and hair as he lay listlessly resigned for a moment or two -staring into the noisy labyrinths of the flames. - -It was half an hour later. The leaping flames had settled as in -sleep upon a bed of red-gold coals; a little ever-ascending spiral -of gray-white smoke escaped from a cleft in the end of one of the -half-burned logs. The old chimney-place was like a vivid picture set in -the dark wall. Its yawning black throat, heavily clogged with soot, was -tinged faintly for some way up by the glow from the lurid mass on the -hearth. The great iron fire-dogs, at least four feet in height, were -connected from shaft to shaft by a chain in grotesque suggestion of the -Siamese twins. The much-burnt bricks had assumed opaline tones, in rosy -grays and greenish-yellows, beneath the intense heat and light. On the -hearth-rug the collie lay stretched, his ruffled legs every now and then -executing an unavailing canter, as in his dreams perchance he chased a -soaring buzzard. - -They were all three asleep--the fire, the collie, Roden. A soft crooning -wind, conducive to slumber, sighed at the doors and windows, vibrating -every once in a while with sonorous minor cadences. - -Suddenly the incessant monotone was snapped, as it were, to silence. -The door leading into the library had been opened; some one entered -cautiously, stood still; then the door was again closed noiselessly. - -The person who had entered crept forward a pace or two. It was Virginia. -She had not yet taken off her riding-habit, and the bandages were yet -about her shoulder. Some dark stains here and there told where the blood -had soaked through. As she came forward, nearer to the rich lambency of -the fire, her white face borrowed some of its roseate flush, but the -lines of pain, mental and physical, were traced as with a fine chisel -about the sombre mouth and eyes. Stealing past the foot of the sofa on -which Roden lay, she stood a moment looking at him. Her crossed wrists -pressed each other hard against her bosom, her long fingers drawing the -stuff of her habit in wrinkles with the tenseness of their grasp upon -it. Her breast rose and fell, impatient, eager, behind the close prison -of her arms, as some woodland thing so held might seek to be free. All -at once she sank down to her knees upon the hearth-rug, lifting both -hands to her bent face, and rocking herself to and fro with wild, swaying -movements of her supple body. The collie raised his head with a drowsy -curiosity, and let it fall heavily again upon the floor. The varying -monody of the wind had begun again through the chinks in the closed door. - -At last she lifted her head, letting her clasped hands fall loosely into -her lap. A sudden flame showed her with an added vividness the face of -Roden as he lay in tired unconsciousness upon the old lounge. She moved -nearer to him, still on her knees; then again lifting her hands to her -bosom, leaned forward and gazed upon him as though one should drink with -the eyes. Her great braids, ruffled and half unplaited, followed the -lithe curves of her back with glittering undulations, as of two mated -golden serpents. So passed some moments. - -Presently, as though uneasy, even in the far-off Land of Nod, beneath -those moveless, hungry, beautiful eyes, the young man stirred, and -muttered something in his sleep. Swift and noiseless as a cat she leaped -backward into the folded shadows; but he did not wake. Once more she came -forward. With a stealthy movement she drew out a little pair of scissors -from the bosom of her dress; then bending over, lifted, with the touch of -a butterfly upon a flower, one of Roden’s much-tossed curls. There was -the sharp hiss of steel through hair, and the soft brown semicircle lay -in the girl’s palm. She lifted it to her lips with the gesture of one -who, half starved, suddenly finds bread within his grasp; then turning, -she stole out again, even as she had entered. - - - - -V. - - -Roden was not able to leave the house for many days. During this time -Virginia waited upon him, sang to him, brought into service her every -power of amusement. - -She coaxed her perverse “mammy” to teach her new darky songs by reading -endless chapters in the Bible. All her spare time was spent in setting -them to appropriate accompaniments. She would sit and recount absurd -anecdotes to him by the hour in her slow, sweet monotone, as unsuggestive -of anything humorous as can well be imagined. Sometimes she fetched her -spinning-wheel and spun as she talked. He felt vexed with himself that -he could not sketch her as she sat plying the dull blue thread with -her nimble fingers. Her homespun dress dropped naturally into those -broad, generous folds beloved of sculptors. She had a clear, placid -profile, which always found shadows sufficiently willing to serve as -background for its pale beauty. Her head was noble in its contours, and -as graceful in its startled, listening movements as that of a stag. -Roden did make several attempts to fix her upon paper, but ended always -with a contemptuous exclamation and a hurried, clever drawing of a -steeple-chase, or Bonnibel, or some other equally horsy subject. - -One day he happened to mention that as a lad he had played tolerably well -on the violin. Virginia rose at once, saying that she thought there was -one in the attic. - -She took a candle, and went up the little corkscrew staircase that led -into the roof of the house--a dark, dusty, cavernous place, smelling of -mould and old books. There were many hair-covered trunks studded with -brass nails, heaps of old saddles and harness, fire-dogs, brass and -iron, a disused loom. - -The corners of the room were veiled in a thick and rustling obscurity, -suggestive of parchment and rats. Onions and red peppers adorned the -ceiling. - -Virginia set down the candle on one of the moth-eaten trunks, and lifted -the lid of a second. - -A fine cloud of little white particles flew out into her face, as -impalpable, as easy of escape, as impossible to recapture, as the -contents of Pandora’s box. The girl thrust in her long brown arm, and -drew out a bunch of white ostrich feathers. - -They were shedding their delicate moth-nibbled filaments like snow upon -her dark gown and the bare floor of the attic. She drew them caressingly -through her fingers as though in pity; it seemed to her sad that things -so charming should have so common a fate. She then stooped, and after a -little searching drew out the violin. - -She was about to shut down the lid of the trunk when something caught her -eye--a bunch of cherry-colored ribbon, which burst from beneath a mass of -moth-eaten gray fur, like a sudden flame from covering ashes. - -She reached down and pulled it out; but lo! it was not only a knot of -ribbons; something more followed--a sleeve of heavy antique silk, stiffly -brocaded in red and gold flowers on a cream-hued ground. Then came more -ribbons, a mass of fine lace, a scarlet petticoat. The girl put down the -violin, held up this relic of the Old Dominion, and shook it out somewhat -contemptuously. A little parcel fell from the musty skirt--a pair of -slippers with high red heels and little red rosettes. As she looked, a -sudden change came over the girl’s face, a sudden flash of resolve, a -quick suffusion of bright color. She seized the little shoes, bundled -them again into the dress, and drew her own homespun skirt over the -whole. Then, tucking the violin under her arm and lifting the candle, she -ran at a perilously hurried pace down the contorted stair-way and into -her own room. - -She closed and locked the door, laid the dress and violin on the bed, -and still standing up, pulled and tugged at one of her heavy shoes until -it came off in her hand, discovering one of her shapely feet in its blue -yarn stocking. But, alas! Virginia present could not get her foot into -the slipper of Virginia past. She sat down on the edge of the bed in -mortified vanquishment, and turned the pretty, absurd thing about in her -strong hand. Then once more she tried to put it on. She found that by -squeezing her toes into the toe of the slipper she could manage to walk, -as there was no restraint at the back of the foot. She then lifted and -put on the dress. It would not meet by several inches about her splendid -young bosom, and the waist gaped at her derisively from the little -mahogany-framed mirror. She was, however, determined. She hid these -defects as best she might, by snipping away bunches of the cherry-colored -ribbon here and there, and pinning them in reckless profusion above the -gap in the bodice. My lady of the time of George the Third must have -been shorter than this damsel of the first year of President Cleveland’s -administration. The stiff, flowered skirts stopped short at least three -inches above her instep. Virginia had fortunately very commendable -ankles, and peeping thus from the mass of mould-stained red and yellow -frillings, they looked as sleek and trim as the neck of a bluebird -peeping from autumnal foliage. - -She tilted the little glass forward by means of one of her discarded -shoes thrust behind it, and darted a shamefaced glance at her transformed -self. Bravo! bravo! Miss Herrick! You are worthy of that famous name. So -hath Abbey oft drawn Julia, plenteous in her shining skirts and tresses, -beribboned, beautiful. Ah! what eyes! what lips! what an exquisite -expression, half of self-conceit, half of timid uncertainty! What a -throat for a dove to envy, supporting the face kissed brown by the sun, -like an orchid whose stem is fairer than its flower! Snood up that banner -of golden hair, my good Virginia; twist it about with the string of -little shells you yourself gathered last summer; make yourself as lovely -as possible, my little fawn, for the sacrifice. The gods have demanded -it from time immemorial--a band of fair maidens every year to appease -the Minotaur Despair. Good-by, Virginia; good-by; good-by. Never again -will that dim green glass reflect such looks from you. Do not forget the -violin. Was it not for him that you went to fetch it? Is it not for him -that you have forced your strong young body into the curveless dress of -1761? Is it not all for him? And even unto the end will it not be for -him? - -Roden, conscious only of her presence by the unusual rustling of her -skirts, looked up questioningly. When he saw her, who she was, he started -to his feet, his lips parting in an expression of utter amaze. It was as -though one of the bepowdered Caryston dames had stepped from her massive -gilt frame in the hall without and confronted him. He could say nothing -but her name, in varied tones of astonishment, inquiry, and approval. - -She stood before him on her high heels as uncertain as a child learning -to walk, smoothing out the much-creased folds of her gay attire with -restless, nervous fingers, the stringless violin in her other hand. -“I--I--I look a awful fool--don’t I?” she said, laughing not very -merrily. “I--feel ’s ’f I’d sorter got roots to my feet in these shoes.” -She thrust out one foot, in its incongruity of yarn stocking and Louis -Quinze slipper, tilted it to one side, and regarded it in apparent -absorption. - -Roden was only thinking what a charming picture she made tricked out in -all this red and gold of other days. She stood there before him like a -beautiful present, clad in the garments of a past as beautiful. He felt -a strange sensation of having stepped back into the time of Henry Esmond -and the Virginians. He glanced down at his wrists, half expecting to see -lace ruffles spring to adorn them, under the magic of the hour. - -“You pretty child!” he said at last, “what on earth made you think of -getting yourself up in this style?” But he knew that she was more than -pretty. He would have liked to tell her so, only he was always very -careful what he said to this little Virginian; and florid compliments, -though perfectly adapted to the period of her costume, would smack of the -familiar when considered under the lights of the nineteenth century. - -He wondered at the radiance in her suddenly lifted face. How could he -know that at last the so often asked question nearest to her heart was -answered, and answered by him? He thought her pretty! - -“I brought you the violin,” she said, turning away with an effort. “I -reckon I’d better go ’n’ take off these things. They cert’n’y do look -foolish--don’t they?” - -“No, don’t,” said Roden. “You ought to humor an invalid, you know. You -are so awfully nice to look at in that queer old gown.” - -Dimples that he had never before seen, just born of joy, stole in and -out about the corners of the girl’s red lips. She was more even than -beautiful; she was enchanting. How ever had she come by all those -old-time airs and movements? Had she perchance imbibed the spirit of the -past with the air of the old house where she had always lived? Did some -of those old _grandes dames_ lean from the walls at night to teach her -that subtle, upward carriage of the head? - -He forgot all about the violin, and stood looking at her in wondering -absorption. - -“I--I’ve got a new song for you,” she said, presently, in a low voice. -She seated herself sidewise at the piano, as though diffident of the -furbelows that composed the back of her novel attire, striking at the -same time noiseless chords with her left hand. - -“You said you liked Scotch songs. I found this one in a old book that -b’longed to my mother. She was Scotch. Mus’ I sing it?” - -“Please do,” said Roden. - -Thus encouraged, she sang to him in the following words: - - “I hae a curl, a bricht brown curl, - A bonny, bonny curl o’ hair, - An’ close to my heart it nestles warm, - But its brithers dinna ken it’s there. - - “I stole my curl, my silk-saft curl, - My bonny, bonny curl o’ hair, - An’ a’ the nicht it sleeps upon my heart, - But its master doesna ken it’s there. - - “O bricht, bricht curl! O luvely, luvely curl! - O curl o’ my bonny, bonny dear! - I wad that again ye waur shinin’ on his head, - But I wad that his head waur here!” - -Now although Roden had often before heard her sing, he was conscious of -a sound in her voice to-night which was utterly new to him--a sound so -marvellous, so altogether exquisite, so melting sweet, that he was almost -afraid the beating of his heart would prevent some of its beauty from -reaching him. There was in it a divine fulness which he had never before -heard in a human voice. It was like the sea on summer nights. It was like -the distant wind in many leaves. It was like the eternal complaint of the -voices of the fields on April noons. It filled him with a sense of peace -and unrest at the same time. It thrilled him and possessed him utterly. -Blind that he was, however, no faintest inkling of what had produced this -divine result came to his mind. He was touched, but touched only as he -would have been by any other voice as perfect. - -“My dear little girl,” he said, bending over and kissing her smooth brow -with one of his rash impulses, “we must see what can be done with that -voice. I am thinking that you will add to the honor of your name some -day, Miss Herrick.” - -She started to her feet. It was as though her very heart’s blood had -risen to meet his lips. A delicate, vivid rose-color dyed all her brow -and temples. “How do you mean?--how do you mean?” she said, in a rough, -shaken whisper, holding both hands against her heart as though afraid it -would leap from her body. - -“Never mind what I mean just now,” he said, with the smile of a wiseacre; -“and, Virginia, since you have sung that song so charmingly, I am sure -that you will be glad for me about something which I am going to tell -you.” - -Glad? Was she not always glad for anything which gave him joy? Had she -not read her eyes almost sightless, night after night, in mastering that -strange horse lore which would enable her to help him in his enterprises? -She came nearer, in bright expectancy; lifted her face to meet his looks -and words. - -“Yes,” she said; “please tell me. I know I’ll be glad--I cert’n’y will.” - -“I am engaged to be married,” he told her. “I am engaged to be married -to Miss Mary Erroll, and--I want you to be the first to congratulate me, -Virginia.” - -He could recall nothing afterwards but the swift withdrawing of her hands -from his. He could not even remember how she had left the room. She -seemed to vanish as though in reality she had been but a wraith summoned -up by fancy from days long fled. - -But Virginia? Ah, Virginia! Out, out, out into the night she sped on -supple, unshod feet. She had torn off those queer little parodies of -shoes at the hall door, and held them now mechanically to her breast as -she ran. - -The air, redolent with peach-blossoms and hyacinths just born, rushed to -meet her from the dark jaws of the east, as though some leviathan should -breathe with a sweet breath upon the night May earth. There was no moon -in the lustrous blue-gray of the heavens, but the stars seemed trying to -atone for her absence by their multitudinous shining. - -As Virginia dashed on past a clump of box-bushes, her skirts brushing the -stiff leaves set them rattling, and woke the nested birds to querulous -complaints. Her feet were wet with the night grasses, and bruised with -the pebbles of the carriage-drive. She reached the lawn gate, opened it, -and rushed through. On, on, across a field of grass, close-cropped by -the not fastidious sheep, who, warmly folded on a neighboring hill-side, -still nibbled drowsily between their slumbers such luscious blades as -were within their reach. - -She came at last to a little enclosure set about with evergreens and -almost knee-deep in withered grass. Her eyes, grown accustomed to the -wan light, could make out two little hillocks, as it were, formed within -by heaped-up earth, and clasped by the tangled herbage. Underneath their -sometime verdant rises slept the first twain who in Virginia bore the -name of Caryston. Side by side, so had they lain, in death together -as in life they had been. Virginia knew well this their self-chosen -resting-place. Here on summer afternoons would she come to knit. Here she -always brought the first spring flowers, and here she had always placed -boughs of white and purple lilacs every day while they lasted. She had -dreamed and wondered and enjoyed here, and here she came to suffer, as -from some subtle instinct a man turns to his childhood’s home to die. - -Just outside the wicket gate the daffodils were all in plenteous blossom, -as though day, for once relenting, had dropped an armful of gold into -the lap of night. On a locust-tree near by a mocking-bird trilled and -warbled. She cast herself face down upon one of the graves, clasping -it about with her bare arms, as one clasps a proven friend in time of -trouble. She had spoken no word as yet. She suffered as keenly, as -dumbly, as any creature, wild or tame, to whom there is no soul. But all -at once a cry broke from her, then over and over again, “O my God! O my -God! O my God!” - -The sobbing piteousness of this desolate prayer as it tore its way from -the depths of her wild heart--who shall write of it? Not I--not I--even -if I could. She was a savage; she suffered like a savage. Will any say -there was no justice in it? It is something, is it not, to be capable of -passion such as that? She suffered beyond most people, men and women, it -is true; but was she not in that much blessed above them? - -She lay there until the dawn looked whitely above the eastern hills upon -the waking earth. In her quaint old dress one might have thought her the -tortured ghost of the woman who had so long slept in peace below the -grass-hidden mound. She staggered, when at last she rose to her feet, -and fell for a moment upon her knees. There was a sense of vagueness -that possessed her. She did not seem to care now, somehow. She wondered -if they would be married at the little church in the neighborhood, and -if they would let her come. She thought _he_ would. She thought that she -would not mind much seeing it. Of course they would live here. She would -see them together every day. Well, what of that? She was surprised in a -dull way that it did not affect her more. Then she remembered that she -had not made any bread for him, such as he liked, the night before. -Well, it was a pity; but it was too late; it wouldn’t have time to rise -now. She must think of something else. Morning came on apace, clad all -in translucent beryl-colored robes, and brow-bound with gold and with -scarlet. - -The birds were waking and chattering, as women chatter over their morning -toilets. Some more hyacinths had bloomed in the night, and there was a -great clump of iris, that she had not noticed the day before, on the -hill-top. A cardinal-bird, sweeping downward like a flame fallen from -some celestial fire, made his morning bath in the hollow of a tulip-tree -leaf--a relic of vanished winter filled by kindly spring with fragrant -rain. - -As she neared the lawn gate she saw some one leaning over it. A swart, -red-kerchiefed figure, clad in a dress whose stripes of blue and white -circled her large body as its hoops a barrel. It was Aunt Tishy. She -pushed upon the gate, jamming her stout proportions uncomfortably in her -haste to reach the girl. - -“Gord! Miss Faginia, whar _is_ you ben? An’ gret day in de mawnin! what -dat you got on, anyhow? Gord! Gord! ef de chile ain’ jes ez wet ’s ’f -she’d ben caught in de Red Sea wid Phario. Honey, whar _is_ you ben, in -the name o’ Gord? Tell yo’ mammy. Is you been see a harnt? What de matter -wid my baby? Gord! Gord! dem eyes sutney _is_ ben look on suppn dradeful. -Po’ lamb! po’ lamb! Look at dem little foots, an’ de stockin’s all war -offen ’em same as de rats dun neaw ’em. Ain’ yo’ gwine tell yo’ mammy, my -lady-bug? Come ’long so. Mammy kin ’mos’ kyar yo’ ter de house.” - -Virginia submitted listlessly to the old black’s blandishments. She was -not sorry to have Aunt Tishy’s massive arm about her. Her feet ached and -smarted; there was a sharp pain in her side when she drew her breath, and -that dreadful feeling of being a thing just born, a creature who had no -past, still held her in its numbing grasp. - -Aunt Tishy took her into the big kitchen--an out-house consisting of -one room, and a fireplace in which one might have roasted a whole ox. -It was lined on two sides with great smoke-darkened pine presses. The -other walls and the ceiling had once been white, but were now stained the -color of a half-seasoned meerschaum pipe. The two windows had casements -with diamond-shaped panes of dingy glass set in lead. Enormous deal -tables stood here and there. From the surrounding gloom came the glimmer -of brightly polished tin, as brilliant in its effect as the glint of a -negro’s teeth from the dusk of his face. - -[Illustration: “I GWINE TAKE DAT DAR OUTLANDISH THING OFFEN YO’, HONEY.”] - -Aunt Tishy, having seated her nursling in an old wooden rocking-chair, -dragged a basket of chips and shavings from the capacious ingle-nook, and -set about making the fire. She first scooped away the yet warm ashes of -yesterday with her shapely yellow-palmed hands. Negroes generally have -well-formed hands and remarkably pretty finger-nails. Then she began -laying a little foundation of shavings and lightwood splinters; here and -there she stuck a broad locust-chip. When these preparations were all -completed she went out to “fotch a light,” she said, assuring Virginia of -her speedy return. - -In a few moments she was back, carrying a handful of live coals in her -naked palm, having first sprinkled a few ashes over it for protection. -With these she kindled the fire, which soon made a busy clamor in the -hollow throat of the old chimney. - -Once more she disappeared, returning with a bundle of things in her arms: -a big shawl, Virginia’s shoes and stockings, and her homespun dress. - -“I gwine take dat dar outlandish thing offen yo’, honey,” she announced, -seating herself on the pine floor in front of the girl, and beginning -to draw off her torn stockings. “I gwine mek yo’ put on yo’ own frawk -’fo’ dey sees yo’ in d’ house. Marse Gawge he ain’ knowin’ nuttin’ ’bout -yo’ bein’ out all night. I ’mos’ skeered to deaf ’bout yo’, but I ain’ -seh nuttin’ to _naw_body, ’case I didn’t think my honey gwine g’way fur -good.” She took the little cold bare feet into her cushiony palms and -rubbed them softly. Every now and then she bent down her gayly turbaned -head and blew with warm breath upon them after the negro fashion of -ministering to any frozen thing, from a bit of bread to a young “squawb.” - -“Yo’ barf’s all rade-y in de house,” Aunt Tishy continued, as she knelt -up and began unfastening the ribbons from the front of the old-time -garment the girl had donned in a mood so different. - -“Gord! honey,” she said, as the pins accumulated in her capacious mouth, -“in de name o’ sense what dun persess yo’ tuh put on dis hyah thing? -Name o’ Gord! _who_ ever see sich a thing _aney_how?” She held it up -with much of the contempt with which Virginia had at first regarded it, -tossing it finally into the chip-basket. - -Virginia said nothing from first to last. She was almost sure that she -was dreaming, and would soon awake. - -“My sakes ’live!” chuckled Aunt Tishy, as she hooked the homespun dress -about the girl’s waist, “wouldn’ I ’a’ thanked Gord-amighty ef yo’d ’a’ -ben dis good when yo’ wuz leetle, honey? Mk, mh-_mph_!” - -(This final ejaculation I find impossible to describe with pen and ink.) - -When she had completely altered her charge’s appearance, replaiting her -dishevelled hair, and unwinding from its tangled meshes the little chain -of white and red sea-shells, Aunt Tishy took her by the hand and led her -across the side lawn to the house. - -“Now yo’ kin dress comfbul,” she told her, “an’ jess mek’ yo’se’f easy, -my lamb. Tishy she ain’ gwine seh nuttin’ tuh _naw_-bode-y.” - -Virginia tried to smile upon her. Something stiff at the corners of her -mouth seemed to prevent her. She turned, lifting one hand to her cheek, -and went into the yet quiet house. - - - - -VI. - - -Roden wondered a good deal during such moments as his thoughts reverted -not to his ladylove, concerning Virginia’s recent neglect of him. -Popocatepetl was his attendant now at meals, dried his newspapers, and -gambolled for his amusement. Virginia had come to him on the afternoon of -the day following that upon which he had announced to her his engagement, -and had said she “didn’ know what took her las’ night. She cert’n’y was -glad he was so happy. He mus’ please scuse her ’f she’d ben unperlite. -She cert’n’y was glad.” But Roden missed her very much. Besides, he -wished exceedingly to hear her sing again. He wanted to be quite sure -that he had not deluded himself in regard to the possibilities contained -in her sonorous voice. - -Virginia continued to be very economical of her presence, however, and -three days afterwards he was summoned to New York by telegraph to attend -the bedside of an ailing thorough-bred. - -Virginia did not come to tell him good-by. He thought it strange at the -moment, but did not have time to ponder over it subsequently. She, in -the mean time, kneeling behind the “slats” of her bedroom window-blinds, -watched the little Canadian fishing-wagon as it drove away, with -Popocatepetl proudly installed on the back seat. She held something -crushed against her breast--an old Trinity College boating-cap which -belonged to Roden. She knelt there for full a half-hour after the last -grinding of the cart-wheels on the carriage-drive. No tears rose to -soothe the burning in her eyes. She had not wept since that night spent -by those lonely graves. At last she rose and went over beside the fire. -The day was unusually raw for the season of the year. - -Rebellious robins chattered on the eaves. A fitful wind swept rudely over -the fields. Virginia, with unseeing eyes on the low-smouldering fire, -caressed the bit of blue cloth in her hands with absent, slow-moving -fingers. Anon she lifted and examined it closely. It seemed to her that -the lion on the coat of arms might have been better done. She remembered -an old print of Daniel in the lions’ den which was in the big family -Bible. Therein the king of beasts was, she thought, far more ably -depicted. This lion had an inane expression, owing probably to the two -black dots which stood for his fierce eyes, a paucity of mane, and a -superfluity of tail which struck her as undignified. Suddenly she burst -out laughing. Peal after peal of the merry, staccato sound rang through -the winding passageways above, and echoed down into the lower halls; -ripple upon ripple of wild merriment; a rush, an abandonment of jollity, -in which she had not indulged for many a day. She tried in vain to stop. -She could not. That little oblong lion with his much-curled tail was -too much for her. Ha! ha! Oh, how funny--how funny it was! and how she -enjoyed a good laugh! And was it not far, far better to laugh than to -cry? Oh, that funny, funny, funny little beast! How merry he made her, -how jolly, how care-free, once more! - -A voice rang out suddenly, calling her name: “Faginia! O-o-o-o Faginia! -O-o-o-o Faginia!” - -Startled into sudden gravity, she slipped the cap into the breast of her -brown stuff gown, and went to the door. - -“That you, father?” - -“Yase, ’tis. What ’n th’ name o’ goodness ’r’ you hyahhyahin’ ’bout up -thar all by yo’self? Howsomdever, the beauty of the question air, thar’s -a young lady down here as wants ter see you, an’ I’d never ’a’ knowed -yo’ was in the house ef yo’ hadn’ been goin’ on like a wil’-cat with the -stomach-ache.” - -“Who is it?” said Virginia. - -Back came the name in strident unmistakable syllables, -“Miss--Ma-ry--Er-roll.” - -There was a second’s pause. - -“I’ll be down in a minute,” Virginia called back. - -Miss Mary Erroll was walking up and down the “front hall” in her -Quorn-cloth habit, whistling softly to herself. Her short riding-skirt -needed no holding up to enable her to move comfortably, and her hands -were clasped behind her about her hunting-crop. - -Virginia, coming slowly down the many convolutions of the broad -stair-way, noticed the dark sheen of the thick braid folded away -under the smart little hat, the glimpse of fair cheek and throat, the -thorough-bred lines of the slight figure. - -“Mornin’,” she said, briefly. - -Miss Erroll stopped in the midst of an intricate aria, unbent her red -lips, and held out her hand in its loose dog-skin glove: evidently she -intended to ignore the unpleasantness of their last interview. - -“I came to Caryston for two reasons,” she announced, cheerily. “First, -to give your father a message which Mr. Roden left with me. Secondly, to -bring you something, Miss Virginia. I believe you like dogs?” - -“Some dawgs,” said Virginia, speaking in a dull, even tone. - -Miss Erroll, nothing daunted, led the way to the library; she pulled off -the wrappings from about a wicker basket, and lifted out a sturdy mastiff -pup, who, supported across the palm of his whilom mistress’s fair hand, -made ungainly motions with his great paws, as though trying to swim. - -“Won’t you take him, Miss Virginia? We have so many dogs at home, it -would be a real kindness.” - -“Most likely my father ’d like to have him,” said Virginia. “I don’t have -much time ter ’tend ter dawgs. I’m much obliged ter you, though.” - -Miss Erroll, thus rebuffed, set down the little mastiff on the floor, and -pushed it with the toe of her riding-boot. One of the characteristics -of this young woman was an insatiate desire for the good-will of every -one. It was weak, no doubt; but, as the celebrated saying hath it, the -weakness was very strong. Somehow it made Mary uncomfortable to think -that the overseer’s daughter, humble though her position was, should not -succumb to the charm which she chose to exert for her benefit. - -The unconscious little peace-offering in the mean time was making -abortive efforts to peer into every object out of his reach which the -room contained. - -A sudden revulsion of feeling came over Virginia, a sense of unnecessary -rudeness, and of the uselessness of it all. - -“I--I’ll take him, thank you,” she said, stooping and lifting the puppy -into her capable young embrace. “I’m mighty glad to have him. He cert’n’y -is pretty.” - -Poor Virginia! She felt the baldness of these phrases without knowing how -to remedy them. “He cert’n’y is cunnin’,” she added. - -Mary was much relieved. “I thought you would like him,” she said. “I have -named him ‘Mumbo,’ after one of his ancestors. If you don’t like the -name, please be sure to change it.” - -“Oh, I like it!” said Virginia. “I couldn’t give him a better one to save -my life. I kyarn’t never scarsely think o’ names fur the critters on th’ -farm. Does he know it yet?” - -“Oh no!” Miss Erroll assured her.--“You’ll have to teach him that.” - -She looked down intently at one of her gloves, and began to unbutton it. -“I suppose you have heard of my engagement?” she said, without looking up. - -Yes, Virginia had heard of it. She said so in an even monotone which -had in it no suggestions either of approval or disapproval. She was -astonished to feel Miss Erroll’s hand on her arm. - -“Miss Virginia,” said that young lady, with a sweet and whole-souled -blush, “I’m going to ask you to do me a tremendous favor. I--I would like -so much to see Jack’s--Mr. Roden’s room just as he left it, don’t you -know--with his boots and coats and whips lying about. I don’t want your -father or any of the servants to know, because they would think me crazy; -but I’m sure you’ll understand.” - -Virginia led the way without a word. The mastiff pup made playfully -affectionate dabs at her round chin with his rose-leaf tongue. Roden’s -bedroom was on the ground-floor. He did not occupy the majestically -gloomy apartment in which his first night at Caryston had been spent. -This room was in the east wing of the house, plentifully perforated with -small casements, and panelled from floor to ceiling. This panelling had -all been painted white, and the result of the heavy coatings, renewed -from time to time, was a rich, ivory-like smoothness of tint and tone. -A little single iron bedstead stood in one corner of the room, between -two windows. There were some capital old sporting prints upon the walls, -numberless hunting-crops and riding-canes stacked on the high mantle, -spurs, gloves, tobacco-bags, cartridges, and what not heaped pell-mell on -tables and chairs, about twenty pairs of boots and shoes ranged along one -side of the room, some on and some not on trees. Garments of divers kind -were pitched recklessly about. It is perhaps needless to say, after the -foregoing description, that confusion reigned supreme. - -Miss Erroll, at first shyly conscious of Virginia’s presence, soon began -to move about after her usual airy fashion. She lifted the brier-wood -pipe, so often smoked in Virginia’s presence, and pressed her lips -playfully to its glossy bowl. - -“Aren’t women geese, Miss Virginia, when they care for any one?” she -said, turning to laugh at the girl over her graceful shoulder. - -She was entirely at her ease now, and went about from object to object, -touching some and merely looking at others, with a little conscious air -of possession which was like the turning of a rusty knife in the girl’s -heart. She tossed an old shooting-coat from the bed’s foot to a chair, -remarking, as she did so, “What careless creatures the best of men are! -I shall have to give Master Jack a lesson in the old proverb concerning -places and things--when--when I am Mrs. Jack!” she ended, merrily. - -Turning over some things on a table near one of the windows she came -across an old-fashioned netted purse of red silk, with steel rings and -tassels--the purse Virginia had netted for him during such odd moments as -she could steal from her many occupations. She watched Miss Erroll now -with hungry eyes, the eyes of a wounded lioness who watches, helpless, -the taking away of one of her cubs. Her heart beat against her homespun -bodice with short, quick throbs. She stooped and set the struggling puppy -upon the floor. It seemed to her as though she had been holding fire in -her arms. - -“Oh, this is so pretty!” said unconscious Mary. “This is so very quaint -and pretty! I must have it. Of course he’d give it me. I’m just going to -take it without saying by your leave;” and with that she slipped it in -the pocket of her habit. - -Virginia shut her eyes for a moment, dizzy with pain and anger; but the -red light which seemed to surround and envelop her when she did so made -her fainter than ever. She lifted her dark lids and stared out at the -blank strip of sky above the box-bushes outside the window, vacantly, -unseeingly. - -She had no distinct recollection of the remainder of Miss Erroll’s visit. -That one fact concerning the taking away of the purse which Roden had -promised to keep always alone remained distinctly in her mind. She had -tried honestly to overcome the all-powerful, unreasoning dislike of Miss -Mary Erroll, and the result had been worse than if it had not been tried. -The discordant, insistent yapping of the mastiff pup irritated her almost -beyond endurance. He seemed bent on intruding upon her his regret for the -departure of his former mistress. - -As she went wearily into her father’s work-room, and sat down to her -spinning-wheel, she heard his voice at the window calling her. - -“Well?” she said, listlessly. - -“’Pears to me,” said he, jocosely, “as having rained, it air cert’n’y -pourin’. Heah’s Joe Scott come ter bring yo’ them jorhnny-jump-ups he sez -as he promised yo’.” - -She got violently to her feet, upsetting the wheel and tearing her skirt -against a projecting nail as she hastened to the window. “Tell him I’m -sick,” she said. “Tell him I’m in bade. I ain’t a-goin’ ter see him; -that’s flat. If needs be, tell him so.” - -But Mr. Joseph Scott had already entered the room. He was a person of -sinuous, snake-like presence, and seemed capable of shedding his complete -attire by means of one deft wriggle. His neck rose from a turn-down -celluloid collar, after the fashion of the neck of “Alice in Wonderland,” -after she had partaken of the cake which caused her to exclaim, -“Curiouser, and curiouser!” His long locks, of a vague, smoky tint, -exuded an unsavory smell of (I am ashamed to say) rancid pomatum. He wore -a threadbare summer overcoat, though in his case the “over” was a decided -misnomer, as there was nothing under it but an unbleached cotton shirt, -and a sporting vest which had evidently belonged to some Briton. His -necktie would have put an October forest to the blush. His mud-colored -trousers were pulled down outside of his great cowhide boots, which -presented their very apparent tops in a ridgy circle beneath the stuff of -his trousers. - -A strangling sense of loathing and revolt rose in Virginia’s throat. -She felt as though she would indeed suffocate beneath that terrible -combination of smell and vulgarity. She leaned far out of the window, and -spoke to him without turning her head. - -“Mornin’,” she said, curtly. “P’r’aps you heard me tell father I was -sick.” - -“Lor’! air you?” said Mr. Scott. “I cert’n’y am sawry. Here’s them -jorhnny-jump-ups I hearn you seh ez how you wanted.” - -“Thank you,” said Virginia, in a stifled voice. She still leaned out of -the window, and the conversation flagged. - -“Larse night,” suddenly announced Mr. Scott, with spasmodic -assertiveness, “Larse night a peeg-horg came down th’ mounting and -gneawed all pa’s corn orf.” - -“He must ’a’ had a mighty leetle crop,” said Virginia from without the -window. Her voice came back into the room softened by the purring air -without. - -“I’m tawkin’ ’bout gyarden corn,” said Mr. Scott, failing to appreciate -the sarcasm. - -Again a silence. The mastiff pup, diverted by the arrival of the -new-comer, went sniffing about his redolent person. - -“Ef he was a fox,” thought Virginia, dryly, “’twouldn’t take no houn’s -ter foller his scent. I could track him a week arter-wards myself.” Out -aloud she said, “Air them roots or flowers you brought me?” - -“Both,” said Mr. Scott. - -Another pause. - -“The tarryfied fever’s a-ragin’ up ter Annesville,” he announced, -presently. - -Virginia faced about for the first time. “Is it?” she asked. “Who’s down?” - -“Nigh all o’ them Davises. The doctor says as how it’s ’count o’ their -makin’ fertilizer in their cellar.” - -[Illustration: “HE MUST ’A’ HAD A MIGHTY LEETLE CROP.”] - -“What?” said Virginia. - -He repeated his assertion. - -“Ef that’s true,” she said, slowly, “I ain’ goin’ to bother my head ’bout -’em; such fools oughter die.” - -(Be that as it may, she “bothered” herself enough to tramp on foot all -the way to Annesville, some eight miles, that very afternoon, and offer -her services as sick-nurse. The house fortunately was under quarantine, -and there was assistance enough.) - -“But that ain’ nothin’ ter th’ skyarlet-fever over the mounting,” Mr. -Scott pursued, in a tone whose threadbare lugubriousness revealed the -morbid satisfaction which lined it. “That’s fyar howlin’; an’ they sez, -moresomeover, ez how it can be kyard an’ took from a little bit o’ rag.” - -Old Herrick, who had come again to the window, was listening intently. -“’S that so?” he said, finally. “Well, consequently were, the beauty of -that question air, thar ain’ much rag trade goin’ on between that side o’ -th’ mounting an’ t’other. Hyeah! hyeah!” - -“How can you laugh, father?” said the girl. - -“Godamighty, gyrl! I ain’ laufin’ at the folks as is got the fever, but -at them as ain’t.” - -“They says as how it kin be kep’ in a piece o’ ribbon or sich fur over -twenty year,” pursued Mr. Scott, who, apparently not content with his own -fragrance, continued from time to time to bury his long nose in the bunch -of johnny-jump-ups which he still held. - -“’S that so?” said old Herrick again. “I tell yo’ what, darter, ’f that -thar’s true, yo’d better have them things ez th’ las’ Englisher’s wife -lef up in th’ attic burned up.” - -“Why?” said Mr. Scott, before Virginia could reply. - -“’Case thar baby died o’ th’ red fever, and thar’s some o’ its belonging -up thar inter a cradle--some little odds an’ eens ez they furgot ter take -away with ’em in their trouble.” - -“Yo’d cert’n’y better burn ’em,” said Mr. Scott, with knowing gloom. “I’d -as soon sleep with a bar’l o’ gunpowder over my hade.” - -“Well, seems to me ef there’s danger ’n either, ’twouldn’t be in th’ -gunpowder,” said Miss Herrick, dryly, “seein’ as it don’ never blow down, -an’ yo’d be onder it.” - -“G’long, Miss Faginia!” exclaimed her not-to-be-rebuffed admirer. “Yo’d -have yo’ joke ’bout a dyin’ minister!” - -He left a half-hour afterwards, all unconscious of the seeds of disaster -which he had sown, and the next day Roden returned from New York in -excellent spirits. On the following Tuesday he went into the kitchen and -had a private conference with Aunt Tishy, which resulted in his leaving -it with pockets considerably lightened, and shoulders laden with the -thanks and praise of its proprietress. He also confided in Virginia, and -asked her assistance. He wished to give his bride-elect and her mother a -little dinner--wouldn’t Virginia help him? She was so very clever about -such things. He knew if she would only help him that everything would be -perfectly satisfactory. She promised, and he went off on Bonnibel to -Windemere entirely content. - -Miss Erroll drove her mother over to Caryston in a village-cart, and, -as luck would have it, a sudden shower caught them about a quarter of a -mile from the house. Mary, however, got the brunt of the shower, as she -was driving, and had at once wrapped her mother in all available rugs and -wraps. - -Mrs. Erroll stepped out upon the front porch at Caryston with the ruffle -at her throat, and a little damp, and the plumes in her bonnet somewhat -limp; but Mary’s dress of white wool was soaked through and through, and -her hat a sodden mass of white lace and straw. - -Roden relapsed at once into the agonies of alarm in which newly engaged -men are apt to indulge when the health of their _fiancées_ is called into -question. He went again to Virginia, and overwhelmed her with instruction -and entreaties. Miss Erroll was conducted to a bedroom bright with blue -chintz and many wax-candles, and Virginia, having provided her with some -of her own clothes, went off to dry the soaked garments. That, however, -Roden would not hear of. It was too far to Windemere to send back for dry -garments. Then Virginia must lend Miss Erroll one of her dresses. - -Virginia had three dresses besides the one she wore. She brought them all -in and laid them on the bed. Miss Mary, who had an artistic eye, chose -a gown of garnet wool with plain round waist and short skirt. When she -had turned it in a little at the throat, and fastened a bit of cambric, -which Virginia brought her, kerchiefwise about her neck, she looked -like a charming Cinderella who had resumed her humble attire to please -her Prince. Mary’s throat, however, could not stand the severe test of -laceless exposure. It was too slender and long. Where Virginia’s massive -column of cream-hued flesh rose from the clasp of such a kerchief with -infinite suggestions of mythical forests and Amazonian warriors, Miss -Erroll announced that she looked “scraggy.” She took up the bit of -black velvet with its buckle of Scotch pebbles which she had worn about -her throat when she arrived. But the wet stuff left dark stains on her -fingers, and had assumed a cottony, lack-lustre hue. “If only I had a bit -of velvet to go about my throat!” she said, regretfully. “I can’t go down -this way--I’m so indecently thin!” She laughed a little and sat down as -in despair. - -A sudden thought leaped hot in Virginia’s breast. A bit of velvet? She -had no velvet of any kind, but she knew where a piece was. A bit of -dark-blue velvet ribbon, just such a bit as Miss Erroll wanted. True, it -had been used to loop a baby’s sleeve, but around that slender throat it -would reach most amply. - -“I--kin--get--you a piece,” she heard herself saying. - -Her voice sounded strange and disembodied to herself, as though it did -not issue from her own lips. She thought that she to whom she spoke -must start up with horror for the change. But no, she only smiled -blandly, sweetly, with that faint suggestion of patronage which was as -perceptible, though not as palatable, as the dash of bitter in orange -marmalade. - -“Thank you so much!” she said. “I shall quite suit myself then.” - -Virginia took a candle and went up into the attic, as ten days ago she -had gone. The damp, dusty smell brought back to her that terrible memory -as only a perfume can recall the past. - -Her veins throbbed ever hotter and fiercer. Her time was come. Revenge -was in her hands. What fever could be more virulent, more deadly, than -the fever that dark-haired girl had set raging in her veins? What was -the verse that she had read only last night to Aunt Tishy out of what -the old negress called “de Holy Wud?” An eye for an eye, a tooth for a -tooth. Joe Scott was not the only person she had ever heard speak of -such a thing. It had simply served to recall it to her mind. Ha! ha! She -had never liked Joe Scott before, and she had been very rude about those -johnny-jump-ups. Poor Joe! She would thank him the very best she knew how -when next she saw him. Poor Joe! good Joe! dear Joe! Yes, there it was, -the pretty bassinet cradle, with its faded blue and pink ribbons. That -little English baby had died full four years ago. She walked towards it, -shielding the candle with one scooped hand from the playful assaults of -the night wind. The cradle stood just in front of an old hair-covered -chest. As she neared it, a consciousness of eyes regarding her came upon -her. Ah! there they were. A rat, paralyzed for the moment by the sudden -light, had paused on the edge of the old chest, and fixed her with his -little, protruding, evil-looking eyes. She made a spasmodic, terrified -movement with her hand, and he leaped down, his sleek, tight-skinned -body striking the floor with a repulsive sound as of unsavorily nurtured -corpulence. The girl turned with a strong, uncontrollable fit of -shivering towards the cradle. It was rocking slowly back and forth in -the uncertain light, its pink and blue ribbons fluttering with a ghostly -and ill-timed gayety. A cry almost broke from between her gripped lips, -but she remembered suddenly that the rat must have set it in motion when -he leaped from the top of the chest. Setting the candle on the floor -beside her, she stooped over and began lifting out the little sheets -and blankets and bundles of linen and silk. One of those sudden noises -which disturb sleep at night in an old house jarred through the room. -She stuffed the things hastily back and looked behind her. Nothing -there. But as her glance went round the room she saw before her, black, -assertive, monstrous, the likeness of a huge cradle, cast by the candle -against the whitewashed wall of the garret. Her heart beat with laboring, -heavy thuds. If it were not quite so black, she thought, or if it had -only been more the size of the real cradle; but its vast presence in the -low-roofed room seemed like the presence of some presiding fate. She tore -away her look from it by sheer force of will, found what she wanted, -caught up the candle, and rushed headlong from the room. - -Miss Erroll received her with the same sweet smile. “You were pretty -long,” she said. “I’m afraid I’ve given you a lot of trouble.” - -“No, none,” said Virginia. She cleared her throat and repeated the words. -They were indistinct at first, because of the dryness of her tongue and -the roof of her mouth. She watched with hot, moveless eyes the slim -fingers of Miss Erroll as she first crimped the curling bit of velvet -between her fingers, with a deft, almost imperceptible movement, and -forced the teeth of her little buckle through it. - -“How damp it smells!” she said, as she lifted it to her throat to put it -on; “just as if it had been stuffed away in some old attic.” - -Virginia’s knees smote together. She put out her hand to steady herself, -and sank heavily into a chair. - -“’Taint nuthin’--’tain’t nuthin’,” she said, roughly, as Mary ran to her -side. “I’m better jess so. Don’ tech me, please. An’ please ter scuse me. -I kyarn’ bear no one to tech me when--when I’m like this.” - -Alas! alas! Virginia, when were you ever “like this” before, in the whole -course of your seventeen years of strength and health and placid, if -bovine, contentment? - - * * * * * - -The dinner, thanks to Virginia, was a success. Roden’s wines were -excellent. They were going to ask Virginia to sing for them. Roden said -he thought it would please her so much. After dinner Mrs. Erroll sat down -to the piano, and the sweethearts wandered off into the “greenhouse,” -leaving open the door between the rooms. A rhomboid of pale yellow light -from the candles on the dinner-table fell into the narrow, flower-crowded -corridor, touching the great geranium-leaves into a soft distinctness, -and showing here and there the flame-colored and snow-white glomes of -blossom. - -Roden, out of sight of Mrs. Erroll, had straightway put an arm about the -supple waist of his betrothed, and one of her hands had found its way to -his short curls with a movement as of long habit. As the slanting light -from the room beyond caught the sheen of her delicate throat above its -velvet ribbon, he bent his head and pressed down his lips upon it and -upon the bit of velvet. - -Virginia, by some strange coincidence or freak of fate, was at this -moment crossing the lawn to put the mastiff pup into his kennel. -Attracted by the unusual light in the greenhouse, she looked up. Looking -up, she saw Roden as he stooped and kissed his sweetheart’s throat. She -gave a fierce broken cry, like an angered beast, and turning, ran with -all her might into the house. - -Poor Mrs. Erroll, summoning up musical ghosts from her maidenhood’s -_répertoire_ on the old piano, thought that one of Roden’s horses had -gone mad and galloped through the room. - -In the mean time Virginia, panting, wordless, seized Mary with one -strong hand, and with the other tore off the velvet from about her neck. -“I--I--I’ve read as how it was pizen; I jess remembered. Here’s yo’ -buckle.” - -She rushed madly out again, and flinging herself upon the bare floor of -her little bedroom, beat the hard boards with her hand and dragged at her -loosened hair. - - - - -VII. - - -There is One who hath said that to Him belongeth vengeance. When His -creatures take into their incapable grasp the javelins of His wrath it is -generally with as impotent and baleful a result as when young Phaëton, -seeking to guide the chariot of the sun, brought to himself despair, and -scorched to cinders the unoffending earth. Thus was it with Virginia. -With the nearness of her unbridled love and anger she had forever seamed -as if with fire the fair world of her content. It seemed to her that -space itself would be too narrow to hold her apart from such women as -were good and true. - -Just God! could it be that her sin was to be visited upon the being whom -of all the world she loved best, because of whom that sin had been -committed? Was Roden going to suffer, perhaps to die, in the stead of -the woman she had sought to slay? He was not often at Caryston now; most -of his days were spent with his betrothed. He did not notice the change -which was stealing over Herrick’s daughter. He had no time to wonder that -she did not sing now at her spinning as once she had sung. He would not -have paused to listen to her had she done so. - -He was called away again to the North on the last of May, and on -the day after his departure Aunt Tishy burst into Virginia’s room -with flour-covered hands. “Gord! Gord! honey,” she said, tossing her -blue-checked apron up and down with wild, savage gestures of dismay and -grief, “what yuh think?--Marse Jack’s sweetheart’s dun got de rade fever, -an’ dey don’ think as how she’ll live.” - -Virginia stood and stared at her with eyes which saw nothing. Her face -took on a ghastly greenish pallor. About her brow and mouth there stole -a cold moisture. She opened her lips, and seemed to speak. Her lips -framed the same words stupidly over and over again. - -“Gord! honey,” cried the old negress, seizing her, as she swayed backward -as if about to fall, “is yuh gwine be sick yuhsef?” - -Virginia pushed her away, walked steadily over to an old oak cupboard, -took out a jug of whiskey, and drank from its green glass throat as -she had seen men do. The stinging liquid filled her veins with a hot, -false strength. She spoke quickly now, in a harsh tone, seizing the old -nurse by the shoulders, and thrusting her white face, with its lambent, -distended eyes, close to that of the terrified Aunt Tishy. - -“When was she took? Who tol’ yuh? Are yuh lyin’? Ef yuh’re lyin’ I’ll -curse yuh with such curses yuh won’ be able to be still when yuh’re dead. -But yuh wouldn’ lie tuh me, would yuh, mammy? You wouldn’ lie to me to -send me tuh hell in th’ spirit ’fo’ I was called there fur good. Yuh hear -me? Why didn’ yuh tell me befo’? Who’s with her? Who’s nursin’ her? Put -up my clo’es. I’m goin’--I’m goin’ right now. God! Air yuh a-tryin’ to -hold me? Ha! ha! That’s good--that cert’n’y is good. I’ll make father -larf at that when--when I come back. Why, you pore old thing, I could -throw you outer that winder ef I tried. Well, don’t cry. What a’ you -cryin’ fur? God! God! God! have mercy on me!” - -She fell upon her knees, wringing her hands and throwing backward her -agonized face, as though with her uplooking, straining eyes she would -pierce the very floor of heaven and behold that mercy for which she -pleaded. Then she leaped again to her feet. All at once a calmness fell -upon her. She resumed the old dull listlessness of some days past as -though it had been a garment. - -“I’m goin’ to Mis’ Erroll’s,” she said, quietly. “I wan’ some clo’es. -Send ’em; I ain’t er-goin’ tuh wait. Tell father.” - -Virginia, arrived at Windemere, went down the basement steps into the -kitchen. The cook, a young mulatto woman named Lorinda, came forward to -meet her on cautious, brown-yarn toes. - -“Miss Mary’s a-dyin’,” she announced, in a sepulchral whisper. “De doctor -seh ez how she kyarn’ live nohow. She’s jess ez rade ez a tomarker fum -hade tuh foots. An’ she’s jess pintly ’stracted. Yuh never heah sich -screechin’ an’ tuh-doin’ in all yuh life.” - -“Kin I see Mis’ Erroll?” Virginia said, shortly. She sat down on an -upturned half-barrel near the door, and leaned with her forehead in her -locked palms. Lorinda, rebuffed but obliging, went to see. Virginia was -not surprised when she returned shortly, followed by Mrs. Erroll herself. -Her heart would never quicken its beat again for anything this side of -torment, she thought. Poor, erring, repentant, suffering little savage, -what are you enduring now if it be not torment? - -Mrs. Erroll, nervous and hysterical, took the girl’s hands in hers, -and scarcely knowing what she did, bent forward and kissed her cheek. -Virginia started back with a harsh cry, which was born and died in her -throat. - -“Poor child!” Mrs. Erroll said, humbly. “I beg your pardon. But if you -feared contagion you ought not to have come here.” - -“’Tain’t that--’tain’t that,” said Virginia. “Don’ min’ me; I’m queer -like sometimes. I didn’ mean nuthin’. Ev’ybordy in this neighborhood ’ll -tell yo’ I’m a good nurse. I’ve come to he’p yo’. I’ve come to take kyar -of her. I’ve come to _make_ her live!” - -She lifted one arm with a gesture of command almost threatening. The next -moment it dropped heavily to her side. The old dull look crept like a -shadow over the momentary animation of her face. “They’ll tell yo’ I’m a -good nurse,” she said, in her slow monotone. - -Mrs. Erroll was only too thankful for the proffered services. She had -no assistance from the whites in the neighborhood; indeed, all of the -neighboring families had left for the Virginia Springs. - -Virginia, after removing her shoes, went at once to the sick-room. As her -eyes fell upon the flushed face on the pillow it was as if every drop of -blood in her body turned first to fire and then to ice. - -She stood with her hands against her breast and looked down at her own -work. The beautiful dark tresses, formerly so smoothly braided about -the small head, now ever turning from side to side as though in search -of rest which it found not, were tangled and matted until no trace of -their former lustre remained; the red lips, ever moving, gave forth wild, -incoherent cries and mutterings. - -About the slender throat coiled the wraith of a dark-blue velvet ribbon. - -“Take it off, take it off,” whispered Virginia. “She kyarn’ git well -while that’s there--she kyarn’.” Reason came back to her with a sudden -rush, and she knew that only her mind’s eye saw the velvet ribbon. - -She then took her place by the bedside, from which she did not move to -eat or sleep for twelve days and nights. They brought her bouillon and -made her drink it under penalty of being turned from the room. For twelve -times four-and-twenty hours she listened to those senseless ravings. -She was mistaken in turn by the sick girl for her mother, for some of -her school-room friends, for Roden. Mary would sometimes put up both -narrow, fever-wasted hands to her little throat, and cry out that she -was choking--that Virginia had brought her a band of fire and locked it -about her throat. By what strange coincidence such a fancy should have -possessed her who shall say? - -Thus they went together, those two, through the Valley of the Shadow--the -all but murdered, the almost murderess--and she who had sought to slay -brought back to life. - -Roden, detained by some business complication in New York, heard nothing -of his sweetheart’s illness until telegraphed for on the day of the -crisis. It was just the balance of a mote in sunshine between life and -death. Life brought the mote that won. They told him he must thank -Virginia. They had all thanked her, and blessed her, with thanks and -blessings which burned her guilty soul with twice the fire of red-hot -maledictions. That they should bless her whom God had cursed! Ah, God, -she prayed not! She would but know if God himself wept not because of the -sad mockery. - -A wild thought came to her with healing in its wings, as when a blade -of grass forces its way between the stones in a prisoner’s cell. She had -read of atonement: might she not atone? - -Perhaps God would let her buy forgiveness with her life. Why had she not -taken the fever; or was this fever now which rioted through her veins? -She was walking homeward with her shoes slung across her shoulders. The -grass felt cool and damp against her bare feet. Would it not wither where -she trod? She looked backward over her shoulder with a laugh. It seemed -to her that her footprints would be set as with fire across that lush -June field. - -Then came a curse upon her eyes. For her the earth lost all its summer -green; the heavens above her bent not bluely down to meet the blue -horizon. The birds ceased singing, and echoed her mirthless laugh; all -nature took it up--a monstrous harmony of jovial sounds. At what were -they making merry, these creatures large and small--the crickets, the -wild birds, the many voices of field and forest, of air and water? - -Was it at her they laughed? Did they jeer at her because she had lost -her soul? Ah, for the cool green to look upon! Ah, that its blue would -return to the lurid heavens! The curse of blood was upon her. Because of -it she looked on all things as through a scarlet veil. Red was the vault -above her; red the far-reaching line of well-loved hills; red, red, the -whirling earth. - -Virginia did not die. A week after her recovery she sent and asked if -Roden would come to her father’s room; she wished to speak with him. - -He went most willingly, having never felt as though he had sufficiently -thanked her for what she had done for one who was to him as the life in -his veins. - -As he entered the room, in spite of all his self-control he could not -restrain a slight start. Was this Virginia Herrick?--this snow maiden -with eyes of fire, and tangled hair that seemed to flame about her white -face as though it would consume it?--this fragile, wasted, piteous memory -of a woman? She was as poor a likeness of her former self as a sketch in -white chalk would be of one of Fortuny’s sunlit glares of canvas. - -He came and stood beside her, wordless, and then put one of his strong -brown hands kindly on her hair. - -“Wait,” she said, drawing herself away from him--“wait.” - -“Ah, Miss Virginia,” he said, in his breezy, gentle voice, “we will soon -have you out of this. You won’t know yourself in two weeks.” - -“Wait,” she said, her great eyes burning into his. - -“My poor little girl,” he said, almost with tenderness, “I am afraid you -have over-estimated your strength. You had better let me go now. I will -come to-morrow whenever you send for me.” - -“Wait,” she said a fourth time, in that strange, still voice. - -He had a horrified doubt in regard to her reason as he took the chair to -which she pointed and sat down facing her. - -“Well,” he said, with an assumption of gayety which he was far from -feeling, “what is it? Am I to be scolded for anything?” - -“Do you believe in torment?” said the girl. She kept her hollow, -stirless eyes on his. There was an absence of movement about her almost -oppressive. She seemed not even to breathe. - -“My dear child,” said Roden, nervously, “do choose a more cheerful -subject. Really, you know, it isn’t good for you to be morbid now. Let’s -talk of something jolly and pleasant. Don’t you want to hear how the -mokes are coming along? And Bonnibel, poor old girl! I’m afraid her -feelings will be awfully hurt when I tell her you didn’t ask after her.” - -“I s’pose ev’ybordy bleeves in torment that has felt it,” said the girl. -She had not moved in anywise. Her deep, still eyes yet rested on his -face. She seemed drinking his looks with hers. “I’ve sorter come ter -think as hell’s in th’ hearts o’ people,” she went on. “There ain’t no -flames ez kin burn like them in people’s hearts.” - -Roden jumped to his feet, and went over beside her. “Virginia,” he said, -kindly but firmly, “I’m not going to let you talk like this. Good Heaven! -those country quacks know as little about medicine as I do; not as -much, by Jove! for I’d not have let you leave your bed for a month yet. -Come, dear, let me persuade you. Go back to bed. I’ll come and see you -to-morrow in your room, if your father’ll let me. You must, Virginia!” - -“It ain’t no worse, do you reckon,” she went on, dully, “tuh be in hell -than tuh have hell in you? I’ve thought er heap ’bout it. I’ve most -answered it, but I’d rather--” - -“Hush! hush!” said Roden, imperatively. He thought her delirious, and -started to the door to call her nurse. - -“Wait!” rang out her voice, with all its old, clear strength. She had -risen to her feet. She was there before him. The light from the window -behind her struck through her hair, so that she seemed standing between -rows of living flame. “I want tuh tell you,” she said. “I didn’t use tuh -think I was a coward, but I am--I am!” She beat the palms of her hands -together, and tossed back her head as though seeking to be rid of the -superflux of agony which tore her. “I kyarn’ bear to say it tuh yo’; I -kyarn’ bear to hear yo’ curse me, ez I have so often hearn yo’ in my -dreams. I kyarn’ bear--O God!--I kyarn’ bear fur yo’ tuh know me ez I am. -O God! O God! this’ll wipe it out, won’t it? This’ll buy me peace?” - -“Virginia! Virginia!” said Roden, beside himself. He tried to force her -again into her chair. - -“Ah! don’t touch me!” she cried out--“don’t yuh touch me, tuh hate me -worse than ever when yuh know--Listen--listen hard, ’cause yuh ain’t -a-goin’ to bleeve me when first yuh hear. Yuh come here tuh thank me fur -savin’ her life. Listen: ’twas me ez tried to kill her--’twas me! me! -me!” The last word broke from her with a wild sob, almost vindictive in -its urgent violence. She seemed like one who scourges mercilessly his -own flesh for its sins against his soul. “I done it--I done it. I tried -ter kill her. Listen! You’ve hearn o’ fever bein’ cyar’d in bits o’ -ribbon--in leetle bits o’ velvet ribbon--one, two, ten, twenty years? -There was a leetle baby died here onc’t. It died o’ th’ fever _she_ liked -tuh ’a’ died of. I give her that piece o’ velvet to w’ar roun’ her pretty -throat. I went up intuh th’ attic, an’ hunted an’ hunted till I found it -in th’ baby’s cradle. I give it to her. I tried to kill her. O my God! -Do yo’ want tuh touch me--now?” - -He stood and stared on her like one dazed by a sudden blow, though not -quite stunned. - -“You are crazy,” he said, thickly. “Poor Virginia, you are crazy.” - -“O God!” she wailed. “I wisht I wuz--I wisht I wuz! Oh, ef I wuz only -like them dumb beasts in th’ stables out thar! Ef I wuz only Bonnibel, -then--then--then yuh wouldn’ hate me; an’ ef yuh did, I wouldn’ know.” - -“You are raving,” he said again. - -“Ask her--ask her, if yo’ don’ bleeve me. Ask her ’f Faginia Herrick -didn’ bring her a leetle bit o’ blue velvet to w’ar round her throat the -night she got wet in th’ rain. She said then it smelt damp like it had -been in a attic. Ask her--ask her.” - -“God in heaven!” said Roden, between his teeth, “can you be telling me -the truth?” - -“_He_ knows I am!--_He_ knows I am!” she said, wildly. - -Roden turned from her, resting his hand on the back of the chair in which -he had sat when he first entered the room. His head drooped. The double -horror seemed like a palpable thing at his side. - -“D’ yo’ bleeve me?” she said, with panting eagerness. - -“Yes,” he said. She would not have recognized his voice had he spoken in -the dark. - -She waited a few moments, motionless, frozen, as it were, with suspense -and dread. Then she leaned forward, and holding fast her bosom with her -crossed arms in the gesture usual with her, fixed her dilating eyes upon -him. Was it possible, could it be true, that after all he could not curse -her? Nay, dear God! was he even going to forgive her? - -“Say something,” she said, in a bated voice--“say somethin’. Jess so you -don’ curse me, say somethin’.” - -Still he spoke not. She fell upon her knees and laid her head upon his -feet. “O my God! my God!” she sobbed, “air yuh goin’ tuh furgive me?” - -Then he spoke to her. “Forgive you?” he repeated--“forgive you?” He -laughed a short, rough laugh. “By G--!” he said, turning away from her, -so that her forehead rested on the bare floor instead of on his feet, -“it’s all I can do not to curse you!” - -When she rose again to her knees she was alone in the darkening room. - - - - -VIII. - - -Roden did not return to Caryston that night, nor the next day, nor the -day after that. A boy was sent from Windemere to bring over some of his -boxes. On Monday of the next week he went with the Errolls to Old Point -Comfort, where Mary had been ordered to stop during her convalescence. - -As much as he despised Virginia for her confession, that pathetic, joyous -cry of hers as she thought him about to forgive her would sometimes ring -in his ears; her deep, still, pleading look, as of some dumb beast, for -mercy haunted him at times. He could feel her forehead on his feet, and -the eager grasp of her hands upon them. It was not pleasant, all this; -for while it annoyed and even pained him, he could not say honestly -to himself that he felt any disposition to forgive her. Forgiveness is -no doubt divine. Roden was quite sure that it was an attribute which, -like happiness, belonged solely to the gods. As for himself, he was -distinctly, vehemently, entirely human. He did not forgive--almost he did -not wish to feel forgiveness. What! forgive a creature who had sought to -murder his manhood’s one love? Verily he would be no better than herself -did he so much as dream of pardon. Between her and her God must rest that -question. He would none of it. And yet why did that earnest, wistful -voice, so thrilling with a timid exultation, come ever to his mental -ears: “O my God! my God! air you goin’ ter furgive me?” Pshaw! what -balderdash! He had not cursed her. Let her comfort herself with that. He -did not know many other men who would have been as forbearing. And yet -again--those hands about his feet, that huddled form prone before him in -humblest entreaty! It made him irritable at times. He was conscious of -having acted with perfect justness, and yet he felt that his justness had -not been tempered with overmuch mercy. - -In the mean time Virginia lived on, if one can be said to live whose -heart is dead within her. She did not dare to pray for death; she did not -dare to hope for peace; she feared to die, poor ignorant child, because -of the roaring flame which waited to devour her. She feared even more to -live, because of the fire with which she was already consumed. She never -moved save to go to bed and get up again. Sometimes she would sit all -day out-of-doors under the great horse-chestnuts, already shrivelling -in the June sunlight. Nothing roused her; nothing moved her in anywise. -Poor old Herrick would recount to her his drollest stories, ending with -a vociferous “Hyeah! hyeah!” in hopes of eliciting some answering mirth -from her. But when he had reached the most excruciatingly funny climax, -and paused to hear her laugh, she would turn on him her vague, gentle -eyes, and say, “What’s that, father?” or sometimes, “Were you a-talkin’ -ter me, father dear?” - -The old man went heavily about his work. He was like some willing beast -too late in life called upon to support a heavy burden. He was disgusted -and angry to feel the big tears on his cheeks. - -“The beauty of the question air,” he quoth, angrily, to himself one day, -“I ain’t wuth th’ victuals I eat. I’m a pore ole fool ez oughter be -a-suckin’ ov a sugar rag, ’stead o’ tendin’ ter er beeg place like this; -but, Godamighty! ef that thar gyrl don’ git a heap peerter ’fo’ long, I’m -gwine plumb crazy. My sakes! who’d ’a’ ever thought Faginia would a-set -all day like that a-studyin’ her own han’s like they wuz the book o’ -Gord! Howsomdever, ’tain’t many ez studies th’ book o’ Gord ez faithful -ez my pore leetle gyrl studies them han’s o’ hern. Somethin’ cert’n’y -_is_ out o’ kelter with that thar chile. Godamighty! ef Faginia wuz ter -die--” - -He stopped blankly in the midst of the cornfield through which -he was walking, and thrusting his hands deep in his brown jeans -trousers-pockets, looked up appealingly at the hot blue sky. - -That same evening he was summoned as juryman to Charlottesville, a -village some fifteen miles from Caryston, and as he kissed Virginia -good-by his heart rose in his throat. The face she lifted to his was so -wan, so patient, so like the face of her young mother just ere she died, -twenty-one years ago. - -“Leetle gyrl--leetle gyrl,” said the old man, brokenly, “ef you don’ want -tuh hurry yo’ father tuh his grave, yo’ll hurry en take them purty leetle -foots out o’ yourn. Darter, honey, try ’n’ git some o’ them ole red -roses in them white cheeks. Please, Faginia, honey, I’m ’mos’ worrited to -death ’long o’ you.” - -“Pore father!” she said, stroking his face--“pore father!” that was all. -Her listless hand fell again into her lap. Her eyes fixed themselves with -their vague, uncomprehending look upon the far blue distance. She was as -much apart from him as though she were already dead. He rose to his feet, -strangling a sob in his brave old throat, that he might not distress her, -and rode manfully away to his unpleasant duty. - -That night a dreadful thing occurred at Caryston. The “mill stable,” -as it was generally called, from being built on a hill just above the -mill-pond, caught on fire. There were four of Roden’s most valuable -horses in it, together with Bonnibel, who had been moved from the house -stables while they were undergoing alteration. - -Virginia was sitting silent by her bedroom window when the first copper -glare began to tinge the dense upward column of black smoke. She knew -in a minute what it was, although Aunt Tishy muttered something about -“bresh” fires. - -She leaped to her feet, her heart once more renewing its old-time -measure. “Mammy!” she called--“Mammy! that’s th’ mill stable! th’ mill -stable’s on fire! O God above! Th’ pore horses--an’ Bonnibel! O pore Mr. -Jack--pore Mr. Jack! Ef Bonnibel’s hurt, it’ll break his heart.” She -had forgotten everything in her thought for him. Her own sin, his harsh -words--all that had passed between them since first he gave Bonnibel into -her glad keeping. - -“Here!” she called, tossing on her clothes with nervous, eager fingers, -“han’ me my shoes--quick!--Lord God!--ef only I ken git thar in time!” - -She was down-stairs and out of the house almost before the old negress -knew what she was about to undertake. Out at a side gate she dashed, -and down a grassy hill at the back of the house. Some catalpa-tree -roots caught at her flying feet with their knotty fingers as though, -fiend-like, they would hinder her on her errand of mercy. On, on; her -breath came quick and laboring. She was on the open road now, straining -with all her might up a steep, stone-roughed hill. All the northern -heavens were ablaze with an angry orange. As she gained the top of the -hill a little fan of lilac flames burst from the stable roof against the -night. There was yet time--Bonnibel was in a loose-box near the door. -O God, the other horses! Must they roast alive--the beautiful, agile -creatures that he so loved? - -Below, in the placid breast of the large pond, the lurid mass above was -reflected with an effect as incongruous as when some world-tossed soul -pours out its hot confession into the calm keeping of a saintly heart. - -The shallow stream shoaled into fire among the black stems of the -water-reeds, and tossed the flames upon its mimic waves. She gained the -rough bridge which spanned it; her feet passed with a swift, hollow sound -across it. She was there--at the stable, and her breath had not yet -given out. Then all at once she remembered. Oh, joy! joy! If she saved -Bonnibel, and was herself hurt to death, would not that be atonement? -Might he not forgive her then? Poor little savage child--poor, sweet, -uncivilized, true heart! I think indeed he would forgive you if he knew. - -There were men running frantically about--omnipresent--useless: they -had delayed so long to set about extinguishing the fire that it was now -beyond all bounds. The wild, dull trampling of the hoofs of the terrified -horses made horror in the air. They whinnied and nickered like children -pleading for help. One of the English grooms was dashing into the smoke -and heat. Virginia seized him by the arm. - -“I’m coming with you,” she said; “let me keep hold of your coat.” - -Alas! alas! the maddened, silly brutes refused to follow. They reared -madly whenever approached, and struck with their fore-feet at the plucky -little lad. In no way could he approach them; threats and cajolery were -in vain. Virginia snatched a whip from the stable wall and tried to beat -them out. Usurper, vicious to the last, rushed furiously at her, and -but for the lad’s striking him over the head with a pitchfork, would -inevitably have dashed her brains out with his wicked hoofs. There was no -further time to be lost. One side of the roof was blazing ominously, and -the wall on the eastern side began to tremble. - -Virginia, in spite of entreaties and hands held out to stop her, turned -her skirts about her head and went into Bonnibel’s box. “Six of us ’ave -tried to get ’er out, miss,” said the panting lad, who had followed her. -“Don’t you venture in, for God’s sake, miss; she’s that mad she’ll kill -you--th’ poor hussy!” - -Bonnibel was in truth like a horse distraught. She was leaping back and -forth, and trotting from side to side of her capacious box, nickering -from time to time, with head aloft and tail held like a plume above her -satin quarters. No sooner did she hear Virginia’s voice than she stopped -short, quivering in every splendid limb and sinew. - -“Bonnibel!” said Virginia, in that soft monotone the frightened creature -had not now heard for many a day--“Bonnibel!” There was a second’s pause; -then stooping her bright head, with a low whinny as of welcome and trust, -the gallant mare came to the well-known voice. - -Virginia tore off her woollen shawl and blindfolded the bright eyes. - -In the mean time the rest of the English lads and the head groom had -arrived, with fire-engines and more help. They had already succeeded in -getting the horse out. The vicious Usurper they were compelled to leave -to his awful fate. - -“Boys, Bonnibel’s coming!” yelled the lad who had entered the stable with -Virginia, dashing out ahead of her; “Miss Herrick’s got her, and she’s -coming kind as a lamb!” - -A hearty, roaring cheer went up from without, mingled with exultant -warwhoops from the negroes gathered around. - -Almost they were safe. Why do things happen with only an inch between -safety and destruction? One instant more and horse and woman would have -been free. But in that tarrying instant a heavy beam from the front of -the stable fell crashing down, bringing with it a great mass of bricks -and mortar. Virginia and Bonnibel were half buried under the reeking -mass. The flames sent up an exultant roar as of triumph. There was a -smothered, horrified groan from the men, and then Bonnibel, freeing -herself by one powerful effort of her iron quarters, galloped off into -the coolness of the night. - -They pulled Virginia out, with such gentleness as they could spare to -the encroaching flames, and a bed was instantly made for her on the damp -turf by means of the men’s hastily torn-off coats. She lay there, still, -white, most beautiful, with peace at last upon her tired face. Did she -dream, perchance, that he forgave her? - -Ah! but the horror that followed--the crash succeeding crash, the hideous -rioting of the vengeful flames about the poor brutes within. Some were -suffocated, some jammed to death beneath the continually falling masses -of stone and brick. Usurper, dauntless, rebellious to the last, struck -with his iron-shod feet at the flames that made too free with him. He was -so magnificent in his fierce disdain that more than one of the grooms -sobbed like girls at the fate which had overtaken him. All at once a -cry, piercing, shrill, terrible above any sound which had ever come upon -their hearing, shook the stillness of the night to shuddering echoes. It -was the one and only sign of pain that Usurper gave ere he sank to an -awful death among the blazing ruins. - -Virginia’s senses returned to her as they were carrying her home in -solemn silence and with bared heads. She tried to lift herself on one -elbow, and sank back with a moan of pain; but even for that there went up -some muttered thanks from the men who carried her. They had thought her -dead. - -“Does the moving pain you, miss?” asked the lad who had been with her in -Bonnibel’s box. - -“It hurts some,” she said, bravely. “What’s happened?” - -They had to tell her all about the fire, as though it were a thing new to -her, and how she had saved Bonnibel. - -“Oh, did I?” she said. “Did I?--air yuh sure?” - -“Sure, miss?” echoed the admiring Hicks. “Sure? Well, I think we be -pretty sure o’ that ’ere! Bean’t we, boys?” - -They could not say enough. - -One thought was making music in Virginia’s heart. “Perhaps he’ll forgive -me now,” she said over and over to herself. She looked upward at the -starry heavens through the broad leaves of the catalpa-trees, as they -bore her up the last hill to the house, with a feeling closely akin to -joy. “I’ve saved Bonnibel,” she thought--“I’ve saved Bonnibel, anyways; -ef he don’t forgive me, I’ve done, somethin’ to make him glad. ’Twas -awful in that burnin’ place; but I saved her--I saved her--I saved her.” -She said the last three words out loud. - -“That you did, miss,” said the boy Hicks, who walked close beside her. -“Tell her again, boys.” - -They told her over and over again, first one and then the other; she -seemed never tired of listening. For the first time in many, many days -her white lips fell into the gracious curves they used to know so well. -She was smiling--smiling for sheer happiness. She was hurt to death, -she knew that; something whispered it in her glad ears as distinctly as -though the good God had bent from his great heavens himself to tell her -so; and she knew--ah! she knew--that her God had forgiven her. Death -had brought her two gifts so sweet in his chill arms that his embrace -scarcely frightened her. As they carried her with slow carefulness up -the front steps and into the wide hall an innocent fancy seized her; she -would like so much to die in Mr. Jack’s room--on his little iron bed. -There couldn’t be any harm, could there? She looked so wistfully up into -the face of little Hicks that he felt she wanted something, and asked her -what it was. - -“Kyar me into Mr. Jack’s room,” she whispered. “It’s--it’s nearer the -ground.” - -The pretty subterfuge was also a very good one. It would have been almost -mortal anguish to her, had they sought to bear her poor wrecked body up -that winding stair-way. - -So into “Mr. Jack’s room” they carried her, and placed her full gently on -his forsaken bed. - -Aunt Tishy came hurrying with inarticulate cries. They hushed her as best -they might, telling her that any disturbance might kill the girl. Then -little Hicks mounted one of Roden’s best horses and dashed off in search -of a surgeon. - -Virginia lay quiet and quite content, staring with wide-open eyes at the -well-known objects in the airy room. Another delightful fancy seized -upon her. Ah! it was good to lie there and die, and pretend that she had -been his wife, and that it was her right to die in there with all those -much-loved manly kickshaws about her: the Scotch deer-stalker’s cap, -which hung on one of the sconces of a little mirror over the mantle; -that heap of glittering spurs on a table near at hand; his whip; his -boots; an old blue flannel shirt on the bed’s foot. She had not allowed -any one to enter his room since he left for Windemere, nor had she -herself been in it. - -And even if he didn’t forgive her, she saved Bonnibel. Suddenly there -came upon her an awful, crashing agony. - -“Mammy! mammy!” she called, in her childhood’s voice. She clung to her -old nurse with might and main. “Oh, mammy, mammy, I’m payin’ fur it! Yuh -don’ know, but I’m payin’ fur it. I’m so glad--I’m so glad! Mammy, sing -me ’bout ’though yo’ sins be as scarlet’--sing! sing!” - -The old negress, as well as she could for sobbing, sang to her in such -words as these: - - “’Tis de old ship o’ Zion, - Come to take us all ho-ome-- - Glory, glory, hallelujah! - ’Tis de old ship o’ Zion, - Come to take us all home-- - Glory, glory, hallelujah!” - -Here she broke off with a pitiful cry: “O Gord! my sweet lamb, mammy -kyarn’ sing to you while her heart’s fyar breakin’ in her. Don’ ask pore -mammy tuh sing, my honey--don’, don’!” - -“Sing, please, sing,” said the girl, with gentle insistence. Her mind was -failing her a little for the first time. “God alluz furgives, don’ he, -mammy? Alluz, alluz. Sing ’bout it, mammy; please, mammy, sing.” - -The old negress went on, brokenly: - - “We has landed many thousands-- - Hallelujah! - An’ we’ll lan’ many mo-re-- - Hallelujah!” - -“Please sing ’bout the sins, mammy; that’s what I want--’bout the sins.” - -The poor old woman crooned on, swaying her body to and fro as she -crouched at the bedside: - - “Do’ yo’ sins be as skyarlet, - Dey shall be as white as snow-- - Glory, glory, hallelujah! - Do’ yo’ sins be as skyarlet, - Dey shall be as white as snow-- - Glory, glory, hallelujah! - ’Tis Jesus is deir Capt’in-- - Hallelujah! - ’Tis Jesus is deir Capt’in-- - Hallelujah!” - -“White ez snow--white ez snow,” murmured the girl. “Mammy, do yo’ bleeve -that? Ain’t it sweet, mammy? don’ it seem good an’ kind? Mammy, yo’ see -that ole blue shirt a-hangin’ thar? I loves that shirt, mammy, same as -some women loves their children. It’s sorter got his shape now, ain’t it? -Hand it here, mammy. Don’ it smell good?--kinder briery an’ soapy, mammy? -He used to take more barths ’n any man yo’ ever hearn ov. I used ter hear -him a-splashin’ clear up in my room. Where’s father, mammy? I do want to -see father, an’ I want to see Bonnibel ’fore I go. She came to me--oh, -so sweet an’ lovin’! She knew I’d ’a’ died fur her, I reckon. Mammy, did -yo’ sen’ fur father? Pore father! pore father! he’ll be so sorry! Oh, -pore father!” Here the first tears she had shed rolled over her white -cheeks. The old negress sobbed out aloud. - -“Oh, my honey!” she said--“oh, my little lamb!--oh, my honey!” - -Again came that terrible pain, almost beyond her power to endure. - -“I’m payin’ fur it--I’m payin’ fur it,” she said, over and over again. -“God’s so good to me! He’s forgiven me; he’s lettin’ me pay fur it.” - -The surgeon came at daybreak. He was quiet and serious. Little Hicks was -the only one to whom he told anything. To him he said, “She may live two -or three days; she may die before night.” - -At one o’clock next day old Herrick returned. He was wordless and -almost majestic in his deep grief. All day long he sat holding her -in such positions as would ease her; talking to her; trying to follow -her wandering fancies. She knew him always, though she knew no one -else. “Father,” she said, suddenly, in one of the intervals when reason -returned to her, “won’t you please sen’ fur Mr. Jack? Somethin’ in -my heart tells me he’ll come--now. Write to him ’bout Bonnibel. Tell -him I saved her. Tell him I jess want ter say good-by. I don’ wan’ -him ever ter furgive me. I only want to--to look at him once more. -Father”--wistfully--“_you_ think he’ll come?” - -“Yes, yes, my little girl, I think he’ll come.” - -“Then write, write, father--quick. Don’ let it be too late. I wan’ so bad -to look at him once more!” - -He came--oh yes, he came! mad with regret and remorse, repentant, eager -to atone. “Where is she? where is she?” he asked as he threw down his -hat upon the hall table, and jerked off his spurs, that their jingling -might not disturb her. If he had only known the music that they made to -her ears! - -“She’s in yo’ room, sur. They tells me ez how ’twar her fancy to be took -thar,” said Herrick, simply. “I hope ez you don’ min’, sur.” - -Mind! Jack’s eyes were hot with the saddest tears of all his life. - -He went in softly. There she lay, pathetic, fragile as some long-ill -child upon his narrow bed. He went and stooped over her, taking into one -of his brown hands her restless, slender fingers. Her gentle look rested -unknowingly upon him. - -“Ain’t they goin’ ter sen’ fur Mr. Jack?” she said. “I think he’ll -come--now; father thought ez how he would. Please write it down that I -saved Bonnibel--please write that down. ’Twas mighty hot, but I saved -her. Oh, don’ yo’ think he’ll come?--don’ yo’ think he’ll come? I don’ -even arst him to speak to me. Ef he’ll only stand in th’ door so ez I kin -see him when I go.” - -“Virginia--Virginia,” said Roden, brokenly. “My dear little girl, don’t -you know me? Here I am!--here--at your side. Don’t you feel my hands, -Virginia? Don’t you know me?” - -She went rambling on. “I wonder ef he would furgive me ef he knew? I -wisht Bonnibel could tell him--I wisht I was Bonnibel!” with a little -rippling laugh infinitely pathetic. “Oh, wouldn’ I kyar him pretty an’ -straight at his fences, an’ win ev’y race fur him!” Her eyes opened -vague and sorrowful again upon Roden’s pale face. “Oh,” she said, with -a long sighing breath, “don’t you think he’ll come? Write to him ’bout -Bonnibel--please write that ter him.” - -“Virginia, look at me--look at me,” said the young man, half lifting her -in his arms. “Dear little Virginia, here I am. I forgive you with all my -heart and soul, Virginia. Oh, please look at me, please remember me.” - -“Who says ‘furgive?’” she said, with her restless, eager eyes searching -the room as if for something long expected--“who says ‘furgive?’” - -“I do, I do,” Roden said, weeping at last like any girl. “I forgive you, -Virginia--Virginia. You _shall_ know me!” - -Her eyes fixed themselves upon his face, first vacantly, then with a -wonder-stricken radiance. “Mr. Jack,” she said, under her breath, “did -they tell yo’? I saved her; that’s all. Yo’ needn’ say nothin’; I jess -wanted to look at yo’. I saved her. ’Twas awful hot. I kin hear it -roarin’ now. She come to me; she wouldn’ come to nobody else.” - -“Virginia,” said Roden, “listen to me; stop talking. What do I care about -Bonnibel? Child, do you want to break my heart? Listen, Virginia; I -forgive you--I _forgive you_.” - -“Do--you--really?” she said, with the old timid joy in her soft voice. -“I ain’t dreamin’? Well, God’s so good to me! But I did save her. -‘Bonnibel!’ I said--‘Bonnibel!’ an’ she come right straight ter me with -her pretty head tucked down. Then came all that fire on us. I thought -’twas over. But I saved her--I saved her. Please tell him that--_please_ -tell him that. I reckon he’ll sorter remember me kind fur that; don’ you, -father?” - -After a while her reason came again. She asked to see Bonnibel; they -could bring her to the window, she said, and she would like also to give -her a handful of grass. - -They rolled the bed to the window, and little Hicks led Bonnibel up -beside it. Roden went out himself and gathered a handful of fresh grass. -I think the lad only respected his master more for the tears that ran -down his cheeks. He couldn’t see very distinctly himself just then, this -good little Hicks. - -“Bonnibel,” said the girl, in her cooing tones--“Bonnibel.” - -What was the matter? Had suffering charged some magic in that soft voice? -Bonnibel turned indifferently away from the anxious hand, and rubbed her -bright head with an impatient movement against one of her fore-legs. - -“Oh!” said the girl, while the glad flush died out of her face, and the -green blades fell from her hold upon the window-sill, “Bonnibel don’ know -me any more--she don’ care. I gave my life for her, an’--an’ she don’ -care.” - -“Yes, she does--she does,” said Roden, frantic for her disappointment; -“she’s just gorged, the little glutton! She’s been out at grass ever -since you saved her, Virginia dear; that’s all.” - -“No, ’tain’t,” said the girl, sadly. “I ain’t the same, I reckon; I -reckon I’m right near gone, Mr. Jack. Well, I saved her, anyhow. The most -part fell on me; she kicked herself loose. Please, father, ef Mr. Jack -don’ come in time--_please_, father, tell him ez how I saved Bonnibel. -Oh, father, I mus’ tell somebody ’fore I go. I kyarn’ bear to think there -won’t be anybody in all th’ world ez knows it when I’m gone. I loved him, -father dear--I loved him so! An’ I’ve been mighty wicked; an’ God’s been -mighty good ter me; an’ I’m goin’ to heaven, mammy says. But I won’t have -him even there--I won’t have him--even there.” - -The soft voice broke suddenly--stopped. The bright head dropped forward -on her breast. - -Roden had buried his face in her two pale hands. When he looked up, old -Herrick was closing gently with his toil-roughened hand the sweet wide -eyes which never more would look on anything this side the stars. - -It was at this moment that Bonnibel, repenting, perhaps, of her former -coldness, thrust in her little deer-head at the open window, and drew a -long sighing breath as of contentment. - -The blades of grass dropped from the thin hand now so still upon the -stirless bosom were blown along the window-sill by the mare’s warm breath. - - THE END. - - - - -A BROTHER TO DRAGONS, AND OTHER OLD-TIME TALES. - -By AMÉLIE RIVES. Post 8vo, Cloth, Extra, $1 00. - - Not alone in the success in reproducing the antique diction are - they remarkable, but in getting the color and atmosphere of the - period… In the observation of natural objects, and above all the - knowledge of the human heart, is found the promise that this work - holds forth… The volume takes high rank in the department which - marks the most notable achievements of American letters at the - present day.--_N. Y. Commercial Advertiser._ - - How well Miss Rives has sustained and added to the reputation she - so suddenly won, we all know, and the permanency of that reputation - demonstrates conclusively that her success did not depend upon - the lucky striking of a popular fancy, but that it rests upon - enduring qualities that are developing more and more richly year by - year.--_Richmond State._ - - Miss Rives is a woman of most undoubted power. She has imagination, - daring, and an exquisite sense of form.--_N. Y. Star._ - - Three of Miss Amélie Rives’s most brilliant stories… Their quaint - old-time manner gives them a peculiar charm.--_Philadelphia - Bulletin._ - - Three striking stories of very unusual force and fertility of - thought and diction and strong dramatic feeling, added to which is - a quick and sympathetic fancy.--_N. Y. Sun._ - - Here is pathos which is not morbid; and though the humor is - broad, it is in perfect keeping with the time and the characters - of the supposed narrators. These three stories are rich in - promise.--_Critic_, N. Y. - - For more reasons than one Miss Rives is seen at her best in - old-time tales such as she shows us in this volume. The atmosphere - with which these tales are clothed is especially congenial to - her, and she can work within its influence with remarkable - success.--_Brooklyn Times._ - - It is evident that the author has imagination in an unusual - degree, much strength of expression, and skill in delineating - character.--_Boston Journal._ - - There are few young writers who begin a promising career with so - much spontaneity and charm of expression as is displayed by Miss - Rives in this volume.--_Literary World_, Boston. - -PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. - -🖙 _HARPER & BROTHERS will send the above work by mail, postage pre-paid, -to any part of the United States or Canada, on receipt of the price._ - - - - -CAPTAIN MACDONALD’S DAUGHTER. - -A Novel. By ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL. 16mo, Cloth, Extra, $1 00. - - It is a genuinely pathetic tale, and shows a keen and accurate - knowledge of human nature under many varying conditions.--_Saturday - Evening Gazette_, Boston. - - A story of sound moral quality and touching pathos.--_N. Y. - Commercial Advertiser._ - - There are many excellent delineations of scenes and life in - Scotland, Virginia, and Florida… The characters are also carefully - studied and successfully drawn. The heroine, the warmhearted, - impulsive, and gifted Nan, especially, is a very charming - personage… As a quiet story, with a pathetic vein running through - it, we can confidently recommend it to all.--_Congregationalist_, - Boston. - - Full of life and movement, and marked by both power and - pathos.--_Zion’s Herald_, Boston. - - The characters are very well drawn, and there is a natural - development of the plot… The descriptions of scenery are vivid and - life-like, and the scenes are totally free from the extravagance - which mars so much contemporary fiction. The author of this work - will be heard from again.--_Christian Intelligencer_, N. Y. - - A novel of Scottish life, shifting to American scenes, and gives - the reader a glimpse of life in Virginia and Florida. The story is - told with much simplicity, though a study of heredity is in-wrought - with the artless narrative… The story is quiet in action, - but will please lovers of naturalness and faithful character - delineation.--_Commonwealth_, Boston. - - The characters of the story are strong and the book well - written.--_Christian Advocate_, N. Y. - - A strong hand has drawn the minister’s household in the manse of - Strathlowrie. Surely the author must have at some time made one of - just such a Scotch family, so graphic are the touches of reality… - Seldom has a grave story of a minister’s household been told with - such a rippling accompaniment of humor.--_Philadelphia Ledger._ - - A bright, engaging book, sparkling with shrewd Scotch wit on nearly - every page, and ends most satisfactorily.--_Christian at Work_, N. Y. - -PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. - -🖙 _HARPER & BROTHERS will send the above work by mail, postage pre-paid, -to any part of the United States or Canada, on receipt of the price._ - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Virginia of Virginia, by Amélie Rives - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIRGINIA OF VIRGINIA *** - -***** This file should be named 53838-0.txt or 53838-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/8/3/53838/ - -Produced by MWS and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from -images generously made available by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Virginia of Virginia - A Story - -Author: Amélie Rives - -Release Date: December 30, 2016 [EBook #53838] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIRGINIA OF VIRGINIA *** - - - - -Produced by MWS and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from -images generously made available by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div id="illus1" class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<img src="images/i_001.jpg" width="400" height="600" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">“I—I—I LOOK A AWFUL FOOL—DON’T I?”—<a href="#Page_125"><i>page 125.</i></a></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="titlepage larger">VIRGINIA OF VIRGINIA</p> - -<p class="titlepage">A Story</p> - -<p class="titlepage">BY<br /> -<span class="larger">AMÉLIE RIVES</span></p> - -<p class="center smaller">AUTHOR OF<br /> -“A BROTHER TO DRAGONS, AND OTHER OLD-TIME TALES” ETC.</p> - -<p class="titlepage">ILLUSTRATED</p> - -<p class="titlepage">NEW YORK<br /> -HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE<br /> -1888</p> - -<p class="titlepage smaller">Copyright, 1888, by <span class="smcap">Harper & Brothers</span>.</p> - -<p class="center smaller"><i>All rights reserved.</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS.</h2> - -<table summary="List of illustrations"> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td class="right">PAGE</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>“I—I—I LOOK A AWFUL FOOL—DON’T I?”</td> - <td class="right"><a href="#illus1"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>“I CAN’T COME TO DINNER”</td> - <td class="right"><a href="#illus2">11</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>“AW-W-W POPO!”</td> - <td class="right"><a href="#illus3">43</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>ON THE TOP OF PETER’S MOUNTAIN</td> - <td class="right"><a href="#illus4">65</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>“I GWINE TAKE DAT DAR OUTLANDISH THING OFFEN YO’, HONEY”</td> - <td class="right"><a href="#illus5">139</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>“HE MUST ’A’ HAD A MIGHTY LEETLE CROP”</td> - <td class="right"><a href="#illus6">161</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - -<h1>VIRGINIA OF VIRGINIA.</h1> - -<h2 id="I">I.</h2> - -<p>“It’s a girl,” said Roden, laying a wager -with himself. “No; it’s a boy. -Hanged if it isn’t a girl!” He took his -short brier-wood pipe from his mouth, -knocked out its contents against the side -of the wagon, and pocketed it.</p> - -<p>The time of the year was January, the -scene a country road in Virginia, and it -was drizzling, a thick Scotch drizzle, abetted -by a lusty east wind. Even the branches -of the straggling locust-trees that lined -the red road seemed clogged with it. It -hung in folds upon the sides of the mountains, -and was blown in masses between the -clefts of the rolling meadows.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> - -<p>Roden was not only a new arrival in -Virginia, but in America, and the impression -made upon him had not, to speak -very moderately, been favorable. Coming -from Washington, some one in the train -had asked him if it did not remind him -of England. He had answered with some -curtness that it did not, demanding at the -same time why he should be particularly -reminded of England by the state of the -weather in Virginia. His interlocutor had -replied with the never-failing urbanity of -the Virginian farmer, that “anybody could -tell he was an Englisher by th’ way he -talked, and them loose pants.”</p> - -<p>At the moment he first saw the figure -alluded to, the owner of the British accent -and the “loose pants” was shivering -in spite of the top-coat turned up about -his ears and the soft hat pulled down to -meet it.</p> - -<p>It was indeed a girl; she wore a soft -hat, the counterpart of his own, fashioned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> -of the same stuff as her dark-gray jacket -and the kirtle which reached just below her -knees. On her legs were shooting-gaiters -of russet leather, decidedly influenced as to -color by the tyrannic soil, and on her feet -stout cowhide boots. She carried a gun -on her shoulder, and a game-bag hung -at her side. She further appeared to be -bounded on the east, west, north, and south -by dogs. An old mastiff lounged sulkily -at her heels. Far in front, a collie gave -chase to a stately buzzard, which sailed -away undisturbed by its pursuer’s shrill -barking, while an asthmatic pug sought a -Juggernautal fate between the ponderous -wagon-wheels, and a little black-and-tan terrier, -sniffing hither and thither among the -mist-drenched weeds, reminded Roden of -the accounts of certain mammoth ants as -related by the credulous Herodotus.</p> - -<p>The girl, who had been walking with -head bent, looked up as the creaking of -the wagon-wheels arrested her attention.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon,” said Roden, “but -can you tell me if I am on the right road -to Caryston Hall? I think that’s the -name.”</p> - -<p>She looked at him seriously for a moment, -and then said, “Yes, you are. I -s’pose you’re th’ new Englishman. Are -you?”</p> - -<p>“I suppose so,” said Roden. “My name -is Roden. I have bought a farm somewhere -in this neighborhood, and it is called -Caryston Hall.”</p> - -<p>“That’s it,” she said; “you’re right. My -father’s th’ overseer there. Why don’t you -get down and walk? You look so cold. -I’ll show you.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” said Roden; “I think I -will;” and he jumped down beside her.</p> - -<p>Judging by her attire, he had at first -thought her a sporting country-woman of -his own, like himself an exile in a far country; -but after she had spoken he found that -the soft, slow intonation was strange to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -ear. “The overseer business explains it,” -he thought. “She is a native, and this language -is Virginian.” In the mean time -the girl was also making mental observations. -He was the third English gentleman -she had seen, though of immigrant -Britishers she had known full threescore -and ten. She was thinking that he had -spoken to her with an unusual civility, and -wondering how long it would continue. -Civility this young Virginian had not -found to be a characteristic of the British -settler in her native State.</p> - -<p>“I’m very lucky to have met you,” said -Roden, as they walked on, having dismissed -the services of the ancient wagoner, -whom the girl addressed as “Unc’ Dick.” -“I would like to ask you some questions -about the place, and it’s awfully kind of you -to go back with me.”</p> - -<p>She said, indifferently, and without lifting -her eyes this time, “Oh, I was goin’ -back anyway! ’Tisn’t any bother.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> - -<p>Her long strides matched Roden’s exactly, -and the rapid motion through the stiffly -yielding medium under foot began to warm -his veins. They saw the serpentine flourish -of Unc’ Dick’s voluminous whip-lash -outlined against the pale sky as the wagon -descended a hill just in front of them. -Two more buzzards appeared, slanting in -still absorption towards the west. Instantly -the collie was after them.</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t you telegraph?” said the -girl, suddenly.</p> - -<p>“I did,” said Roden, with some grimness. -“I telegraphed twice. I also had the pleasure -of rereading both telegrams when I arrived -at the station about an hour ago.”</p> - -<p>“Seems to me,” she said, turning to look -over her shoulder at the mastiff, pug, and -terrier, that were having a tow-row over an -old shoe (which same seem to be sown in -lieu of corn in the thorns by the Virginian -way-side)—“Seems to me that letters reach -us twice as quick as telegrams, anyhow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> -You must have thought it funny we didn’t -send for you?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know that I found it very amusing,” -said Roden, truthfully, adding, in a -tone of helpless aggravation, “All my luggage -was left behind in Washington.”</p> - -<p>At this direct appeal the overseer’s -daughter at first looked as sorrowful as -even Roden could have desired, bursting -the next moment into peals and roulades -of laughter. Roden, after the first sharp -inclination to feel angry, joined in her -mirth.</p> - -<p>“Pore feller!” she said at last, taking off -her rain-soaked hat, on which she appeared -to dry her brimming eyes—“Pore feller! -it all seems awful to you out here, don’t it?”</p> - -<p>“It does,” said Roden in his heart, but -out loud he replied with mendacious civility -that it did not. He was, moreover, occupied -in a close scrutiny of her uncovered -locks. They were of a pale golden color, -lying close to her forehead in thick, round<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -rings, after the manner of a child’s, and -clustering heavily, with the dampness. As -he stood beside her he saw also that she -was very tall, taller than most tall women, -and that her fair throat, rising boy-like from -a dark-red kerchief, had unusual suggestions -of muscle beneath its smooth surface.</p> - -<p>Presently they walked on. The top of a -tolerably high hill was soon reached, surmounted, -as Roden at first thought, by an -almost impenetrable thicket. As they approached -nearer, however, he perceived an -aperture in the mass of foliage, and a long -wooden gate, hanging by one hinge in an -aimless, desultory manner, and ornamented -also as to its dingy gray with copious -splashes of red mud. On either post were -rusty iron vases, wherefrom there sprouted -two stunted specimens of the aloe tribe. -One of these vases, having been broken -some years before, hung over to one side -with a suggestion of inanimate sentimentality -highly ludicrous. Some kind Samaritan<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> -had thrust a stick in between its disabled -joints, thus preventing it from utter -downfall.</p> - -<p>The view beyond the gate was unique, -and to Roden rather pleasant after his -morning’s experience. The lawn proper -was shaped like a lady’s slipper, and outlined -by a gravel carriage-drive. It seemed -as though some Titaness might have -set a careless foot among the surrounding -shrubbery, crushing out of existence all -save a bordering fringe of evergreen and -acacias. The long, low house of red brick—with -wings out-spread after a protective, -hen-like fashion in the direction of the -many out-houses—was to be seen through -the bare branches of two splendid tulip-trees. -A little Alderney heifer was grazing -near the portico, and some dorkings -stood resignedly on long yellow legs under -the shelter of the large box-bushes.</p> - -<p>As they worked along the sinuous carriage-way -Roden looked with a feeling of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -ownership at the glimpses of distant hill -and forest, as visible through the crowding -tree-stems. Here he was to make his -home for at least the next two years, and -he was glad not to find it so bad as he -had expected.</p> - -<p>As she opened the hall door the girl -said to him, “Father won’t be here until -six o’clock. I’ll have you some dinner ef -you want it. But you’d better go to your -room first, hadn’t you, you’re so wet?—I’ll -send you some things the larst Englishman -left behind him. There’s a barth -ready, and plenty of towels. I’m used to -fixin’ for you English, you see. Well, good-by -till you’re dressed; then I’ll show you -over the house.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> - -<div id="illus2" class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<img src="images/i_016.jpg" width="400" height="500" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">“I CAN’T COME TO DINNER.”</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p> - -<p>She sent a little “nigger,” who conducted -him with wordless dignity to the apartment -allotted him, and who some five minutes -later returned again with the “last -Englishman’s things.” That personage -must have been of very slight proportions<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -and medium height, whereas Roden stood -six foot one in his stockings, and was of -excellent figure. He struggled for some -time with the meagre garments, and then -decided that he could not put in an appearance -until his own garments should be dry. -At this moment some one knocked at the -door with the announcement—“Dinner -rade-y.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t come to dinner,” said Roden at -the key-hole. “The clothes won’t fit me. -Say I am very sorry.”</p> - -<p>The departing footsteps echoed down -the narrow corridor that led to the room -which had been given him, and Roden, who -had taken the silk coverlet from the bed -and rolled himself in it, stretched out before -the fire of pine cones in the big fireplace. -The room was large and square, -and had hangings of faded green silk embroidered -with tarnished gold. A ponderous -mahogany wardrobe, looking like nothing -so much as a grim wooden mausoleum,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -occupied nearly all of one wall. Facing -this on the opposite side of the room was -a low chest of drawers, also of mahogany, -with brass lion-head handles. A square -mirror in a wrought-brass frame hung over -it. The bedstead was low and wide, with -foot-board and head-board of a like height. -Voluminous curtains of faded green fell -from a mahogany frame fastened to the -ceiling, and were tucked back behind brass -knobs on either side of the bed. There -was a huge pale-green paper screen crowded -into one corner of the room, and behind -this Roden discovered a bath-tub and a -washhand-stand. One picture hung over -the mantle-shelf, a reproduction of the Madonna -of the Chair, done evidently with a -very hard and very pointed lead-pencil, and -faintly tinted with pink chalk as to lips and -cheeks.</p> - -<p>Roden lay in the soft embrace of his one -Indian-like garment and stared up at this -work of art. He became fascinated in wondering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -how many days it must have taken -its indefatigable perpetrator to make the -million of little scratches that composed it. -He wondered if it were the production of -generations past or present. Could Virginia -herself have been guilty of it? He -thought not. At all events he hoped not. -Her voice seemed to put her beyond the -pale of such possibilities. He recalled it -to his memory’s ear now, with a distinct -sensation of pleasure. There had been in -it a certain rich sonorousness. It was -grave, serious, soft as the rush of the rain -through the short grass without. A beautiful -voice attracts men always, even as the -<i lang="fr">timbre</i> of a fine instrument invariably attracts -a musician. It is, so to speak, the -overture to the whole character. No; the -pink-cheeked Virgin, with the slate-colored -infant tilted against her wooden and unresponsive -bosom, could never have been the -work of the maiden in the Rosalind costume. -Never, never! Why, now that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -thought of it, should the cheeks of the pictured -Madonna so blush? unless, perhaps, -at the culpable drawing of her sacred proportions. -Why should she have been drawn -at all? There was absolutely no reason -that he could discover. The pine cones -crackled and blazed up with a savory smell. -The fragrant warmth stole pleasantly over -the young fellow’s relaxed limbs. The pink-and-gray -Madonna faded slowly and surely -away in a golden haze. There was a pleasant -humming as of a summer field within -his ears. Why did he seem to be pulling -up a scarlet window-blind, which obstinately -refused to remain in position, in order to -let three large black sheep gambol at their -pleasure about that imposing mahogany -catafalque? And why did the loss of a -brass key at least three feet long, and which -seemed to belong to his hat-box, occasion -him such acute mortification when called -upon by a very old woman in blue kid low-shoes -to explain its whereabouts? And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -why did—and why didn’t—and what on -earth made them all? Roden had not -slept so soundly since leaving British soil.</p> - -<p>He was awakened by a vigorous rapping -at the door. He sat up and rolled himself -more tightly in the big green silk quilt.</p> - -<p>“Who is it?” he said.</p> - -<p>“’Tis yo’ clo’es,” replied a solemn voice. -“An’ please, sur, ter dress ez quick ez you -kin, ’case supper soon be rade-y.”</p> - -<p>Roden admitted his once more dry outfit -through a small aperture in the door, -after having inquired as to the time, and -finding that he had slept two hours.</p> - -<p>“Miss Faginia she say ez how she ben -think you’d rayther eat yo’ supper jiss so, -’thout sp’ilin’ it with er sorter dinner,” -chanted the monotonous voice without.</p> - -<p>Roden admitted that “Miss Faginia” -had been quite right in her conjecture. -In half an hour he went out into the big -hall, which, divided by three arches, ran -through the centre of the house. Over the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -first was a fine moose-head. There were -skins of many beasts here and there on the -slippery oak floor, and straight-backed -chairs set against the panelled wall, which -some barbarian had painted white. A -much-carved oak table on one side supported -a large silver flagon and two old-fashioned -tankards. On the other was an -old-fashioned hat-rack, filled mostly with -feminine head-gear of various makes and -sizes. A pair of branchy antlers supported -riding-canes of all descriptions.</p> - -<p>Guided by the sounds of a piano softly -played, Roden opened a door on his left, -and found himself in a large firelit room, -whose walls were absolutely covered with -pictures large and small, all in old Italian -frames, all more or less stiff and ill painted, -all hung, regardless of size or shape, as -close to one another as they could possibly -be placed. The effect of the thus concentrated -colors was, in spite of the defects of -the pictures themselves, quaint and jewel-like.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> -Over the mantle of carved oak -reached upward to the ceiling an enormous -square mirror in the style of the First Empire. -On one side of the room was hung -its mate, also in lonely grandeur, and facing -the portrait of a very rosy dame in a -still rosier tulle dress, the whole suggesting -in color the presence of the all-pervading -Virginian soil.</p> - -<p>Just under this second mirror was a -piano, and at this piano was standing the -overseer’s daughter, striking idle chords -with her left hand.</p> - -<p>She had taken off her Rosalind costume, -and appeared in a blue homespun -dress, neat and scant of make, and with -her two big braids hanging over her shoulders.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s you!” she said, addressing -Roden. “I was just trying th’ piano to -see ’f any ’v the keys’d stuck since the last -Englishman left; but th’ haven’t. D’you -like music?” she went on, in her vibrant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -voice, which seemed in some strange manner -to harmonize with the firelight and the -now steady hum of the rain without. “I’ll -tell you, before you say anything, I can -play very well.”</p> - -<p>Roden found her open conceit a very -novel and amusing sensation, but when she -had struck a few chords firmly, her long -fingers sinking in among the keys as might -the fingers of a miser among the gold coin -that he loved, he thought no more of anything -save the melody that filled the room.</p> - -<p>“Gad!” said he, when she had ceased, -“I should say you could play, rather! -Where on earth—who taught you?”</p> - -<p>“No one,” she said, absently, striking -noiseless chords with her left hand, and -not looking at him. “I’ve heard people, -and I do’t by ear. And the men that’ve -had th’ Hall’ve been awful kind ’bout lettin’ -me play—an’ that’s all,” comprehensively—adding, -with sudden irrelevance, -“Were your clothes quite dry?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Quite,” he assured her; “but they are -beastly dirty to come to supper in.”</p> - -<p>“I dried them myself,” she continued, -taking no notice of his last assertion. -“Such work as I had, too! I really think -if Milly hadn’t helped me, you’d ’a’ been in—in—in -your green silk quilt now.”</p> - -<p>She leaned forward for some moments, -laughing, with her head against the music-rack, -so that the piano reverberated shrilly -with the clear sound. Roden laughed with -her.</p> - -<p>“Who told you—the little nigger?” he -asked. “And who is Milly?”</p> - -<p>She got suddenly to her feet, as suddenly -becoming grave, and closed the piano.</p> - -<p>“Milly’s one o’ th’ darkies,” she said. -“Come and get your supper.”</p> - -<p>He followed her across the wide hall -into the dining-room, and found that supper -at Caryston Hall was a very pretty -meal. It was served on finest but much-darned -damask, by the light of six tall candles<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -in silver candlesticks, each ornamented -by a little petticoat of scarlet silk, which -gave them the appearance of diminutive -coryphées pirouetting on one slender wax -leg. A bowl of violets and primroses occupied -the centre of the table, flanked on -either side by crystal dishes, filled, the one -with the pale amber of honey, the other -with the deep crimson of cranberries.</p> - -<p>The overseer’s daughter poured out tea -behind a great silver urn, while on her -right hand a monstrous cut-glass flagon -foamed with richest milk. “Positively -artistic,” thought Roden, feeling a certain -respect in his British breast for this little -maiden of Virginia who could evolve out -of her own country-bred brain effects so -charming. “It’s a beastly pity!” he told -himself, though in what the pity consisted -he could not quite have told any one else, -unless perhaps that a being so gifted with -a talent for instrumental music, and the -setting forth of appetizing supper-tables,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -should be hemmed in from further progress -by the scarlet soil of her native State, -and should murder his sovereign’s language -with ruthless regularity by beheading -some words and cutting the remainder -in two.</p> - -<p>He also pondered somewhat as to the -way in which Virginian overseers and their -children expected to be treated by resident -foreigners. He noticed that the girl ate -nothing herself, sitting with her hand in her -lap after she had poured out his cup of tea, -and pulling idly at the frayed edge of the -table-cloth, with eyes downcast. He wished -very much that he knew how to address -her, and was casting about in his mind as -to how he might find out her surname without -being rude, when she answered him directly.</p> - -<p>“My name is Virginia”—she said “Faginia”—but -it came softly to the ear—“Virginia -Herrick.”</p> - -<p>“They ought to have called you ‘Julia,’<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -Miss Herrick,” said the young Englishman, -gravely regarding her grave face.</p> - -<p>“Why?” she said, with her swift change -from listless to alert—“why ought they? -It’s a hijeous name, I think.”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t very pretty—not near so pretty -as ‘Faginia,’” said Roden, gallantly; “but -there was a fellow once called Herrick who -was always writing songs to ‘Julia.’”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” said the girl, with a sudden dawning -in her sombre eyes, “that’s the man -wrote ‘To Daffodils’ and ‘Primroses’ and -things, ain’t it?”</p> - -<p>“That’s the man,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Well,” she replied, slowly, “I don’t see -why I ought to be called Julia. Her last -name wa’n’t Herrick, ’cause he wouldn’t ’a’ -written those kynder things to his sister, -and a man wouldn’t ’a’ taken th’ trouble to -write songs to’s wife.”</p> - -<p>“Why?” said Roden, fixing on her his -eyes, at whose blueness she began to wonder -in a vague way. Thus looking out from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -the young man’s sunburnt, weather-marked -face they reminded her of some vivid, -sky-colored flower springing into sudden -azure among brown summer grasses.</p> - -<p>“Why?” he repeated. “Are all Virginian -husbands so ungallant to their wives?”</p> - -<p>“So what?” she said, contracting her level -brows.</p> - -<p>“So rude, so careless of their wives.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I reckon so,” she made answer. “I -don’t know much ’bout men ’n’ their wives. -My father’s died when I was born, an’ somehow -I don’t take much to women, nor they -tuh me. But I know ’nuff,” she supplemented, -“to know a man ain’t goin’ to make -a fuss over ’s wife.”</p> - -<p>“If you ever marry,” said Roden, “do -you think you will put up with that sort of -thing?”</p> - -<p>“Sho!” she exclaimed, rising and pushing -back her chair, which made a sharp sound -on the polished oak of the floor. “I’ll never -marry in <em>this</em> world.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Well, you certainly won’t in the next,” -said Roden, smiling broadly; “that is, if -you’re orthodox.”</p> - -<p>“What o’dox?” she said, pausing to question -him, with one hand on the table.</p> - -<p>“Orthodox—if you believe all that the -Bible tells you.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t,” she said, quickly; “not -by a long sight. I don’t believe all those -things got into one place like that ark without -killin’ each other clean out. An’ I don’t -believe those b’ars eat them children for -laughin’ at that ole feller’s bal’ head (I’ve -laughed at many of ’em myself, an’ no b’ars -’ain’t ever eat me; an’ if ’twas right then, -’twould be right now). No, I cert’n’y ain’t -or-or-orth’dox,” said Miss Virginia Herrick, -beginning to clear away the supper-dishes.</p> - -<p>“You’re not commonplace, at all events,” -Roden told himself, as, after having obtained -her permission to smoke, he lighted a cigarette. -It was now past eight o’clock, and -still no signs of the recreant overseer. Roden<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -occupied himself with putting many -questions of a more business-like character -to Miss Herrick, as she moved about the -room restoring things to their proper places. -He found that the little petticoats which ornamented -the candles were some more of -the things left by “the last Englishman;” -and that the primroses and violets grew in -what was called the “greenhouse,” a narrow -glass-fronted corridor reaching along -the front of the east wing of the house, and -opening out of the dining-room.</p> - -<p>He said he would like to go in to look at -it, and she at once conducted him there, -carrying no candle, since a full-moon looked -in at them through the lattice of the winter -trees. A thick soft air, spongy with dampness, -closed about them. The flowers rose -dark and redolent on all sides. Roden could -make out the large, bunchily growing leaves -of a magnolia-tree outside, seen in rich relief -against the dim sky.</p> - -<p>Roden, who had an artistic soul, found<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -much pleasure in watching her. He was -beginning to think that in her own unique -way she was beautiful, and she was certainly -shaped like a young caryatid.</p> - -<p>After she had answered various queries -about house and out-house, niggers and -stables, they returned to the dining-room, -and lifting one of the tall candlesticks from -a side-table, she opened one of the many -doors.</p> - -<p>“I’m going to father’s room,” she announced; -“’f you like you can come too. -Most of ’em” (alluding probably to the preceding -Englishmen)—“most of ’em liked -to smoke there. I’ve got my spinnin’ an’ -some things to do. Ef you want to stay -here, there’s books.” She made a comprehensive -sweep with her candleless hand in -the direction of a low bookcase which ran -around three sides of the room.</p> - -<p>“I think I’ll come with you, if you really -don’t mind,” said Roden.</p> - -<p>“Lor’, no!” she hastened to assure him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> -“But ’f you don’t like dogs an’ ’coons an’ -things, you’d better not.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t mind ’coons and—and -things,” said Roden, somewhat vaguely. -“I’ll come, thank you.”</p> - -<p>They went down a long hall, descended -a little stair-way whereon the moonlight fell -bluely through a square window high above, -down more steps, along another passage -with sharp turns, and in at an already open -door. An old negress, vividly turbaned, -was heaping wood upon an already immense -fire.</p> - -<p>“Lor’, mammy!” called Miss Herrick, -“for mercy’s sakes stop! ’F you put any -more wood on that fire you’ll have to get -up on th’ roof an’ shove ’t down th’ chimney.” -The “’coons and things” were already -crowding about them.</p> - -<p>Roden recognized several of his canine -friends of the morning, and there were, -moreover, two splendid old hounds, which -at sight of their evidently beloved “Faginia”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -set up a most booming yowl of welcome. -There were also the ’coon; a curious -flat-stomached little beast, that flew -about after a startling fashion from chair -to chair, and which Miss Herrick introduced -as a “chipmunk;” a corn-crake; a -young screech-owl; and three large Persian -cats.</p> - -<p>All these pets, he discovered later, had -been presented from time to time by the -“last Englishman,” or “the Englishman -before the last,” or “the Englishman before -the one with the glass eye,” or the fat -wife, or the ugly sister, or what not.</p> - -<p>“If I can only add a gorilla or a condor -to this unique collection,” reflected Roden, -“my position is assured. I will probably -be forever the ‘last Englishman,’ and I will -always be mentioned as ‘the Englishman -who gave me the gorilla.’”</p> - -<p>He then sat down in a corner as far removed -as was consistent with politeness -from the other inhabitants of the apartment,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -and occupied himself with watching -“Faginia,” her “mammy,” and the “things.”</p> - -<p>“Aunt Tishy,” said Miss Herrick, indicating -him with a movement of her bright -head, as he sat withdrawn into his coign of -vantage, like a hermit-crab within its shell, -“that’s the new Englishman, Mr. Roden.”</p> - -<p>“How yo’ do, sur? Hope yo’ coporosity -segastuate fus rate, sur,” quoth the dusky -dame, with an elephantine dab, supposed in -the innocence of her Virginian heart to -correspond to the courtesy of civilization.</p> - -<p>“My what?” said Roden.</p> - -<p>“She means she hopes you are well,” -explained Virginia, about whose neck the -raccoon was coiling himself with serpentine -affection.</p> - -<p>“Oh yes, thanks, very well. Are you?” -said Roden.</p> - -<p>“Gord! yes, sur; Tishy she <em>al’uz</em> well—ain’ -she, honey?” This last appeal to Virginia.</p> - -<p>“Oh yes,” said that young woman “’cep’<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -when you get th’ misery, or th’ year-ache in -th’ middle o’ th’ coldest nights, an’ have me -huntin’ all over creation for somethin’ to -put in your year. Oh yes!”</p> - -<p>“G’way, chile!” exclaimed the thus maligned -personage, with an air of indignant -sufferance. “If I didn’ know yer wuz jess -projeckin’, I sutny would feel bade.”</p> - -<p>“Oh no, you wouldn’t,” said her mistress, -easily. “<em>This</em> one,” again indicating Roden, -“’s goin’ in fur horse-racin’. Some of his -horses’s comin’ day after to-morrer. That’s -better’n Herefordshire cattle, ain’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Co’se <em>you</em> think so,” said Aunt Tishy, -with something between a sniff and a -grunt, as she settled herself in the chimney-corner -with a basket of darning, and -fell to work, stretching the stockings to be -mended over a little gourd.</p> - -<p>“Why, Aunt Tishy?” said Roden, beginning -to feel as though he were a character -in a book, and might spoil the plot by saying -the wrong thing.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> - -<p>The old negress looked up at him over -her big gold-rimmed spectacles, with her -great underlip pushed out, showing its pale -yellowish lining.</p> - -<p>“Lor’! sur,” she said, “Miss Faginny’s -plum crazy ’bout horses. Ev’ybody on de -place’ll tell you dat. I alwuz hol’s as how -somebody done cunjur her mar ’fo’ she was -bown. Dat’s why she so run made ’bout -horses. Somebody sutny <em>is</em> cunjur Miss -Faginny. I’ll say dat with my last bref!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, shut up, mammy!” here interpolated -Virginia.</p> - -<p>“I sutny will,” reiterated the old black.</p> - -<p>“Cert’n’y will what?” said Miss Herrick; -“shut up? I’m sure I hope so, and I know -Mr. Roden does.”</p> - -<p>She rose and put down the raccoon, who -immediately clambered up to the carven -top of an old oak press close by, and hung -there, smiling genially.</p> - -<p>Virginia busied herself in getting out her -spinning-wheel and winding the distaff<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -with blue wool. As she sat down to her -spinning, with her closely plaited fair hair -falling into her lap, a novel thought suggested -itself to Roden, namely, that this blond -maiden might be a Desdemona dressed up -as Marguerite, with the Moor concealed as -her nurse.</p> - -<p>He watched with a strange sensation of -unreality the whirring wooden wheel, the -soft falling of the blue thread upon the -floor, the dusky smoke-stained rafters of -the room, wherefrom hung strings of onions -and red peppers in gay festoons; the old -negress, wrinkled as to her black face with -busy absorption; the moving of the different -creatures in the sombre depths of -shadow. Now it was the glint of the corn-crake’s -flame-like crest as he thrust an inquisitive -head from his position on a shelf -over the mantle. Now the white gleam of -the raccoon’s sharp teeth as he grinned -with an amiable persistency upon the room -and its inmates. Now the old hounds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -grumbled uneasily in their sleep, or the -Persian cats leaned against his legs with -luxurious, undulating appeals to be caressed.</p> - -<p>“Why don’ yo’ sing, honey?” said Aunt -Tishy; “yo’ know yo’ kyarn’ harf wuk ef -yo’ don’ sing.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, do sing, Miss Virginia,” said Roden. -“A nig—I mean a darky song,” he -added, quickly.</p> - -<p>“What shall I sing, mammy?” questioned -she.</p> - -<p>“Dat ’pen’s on whut kinder song de gen’leman -wants.”</p> - -<p>“Well, what kind do you want?” she -asked him.</p> - -<p>“Something characteristic,” he replied.</p> - -<p>Thus adjured, she sang to him, in a very -rich contralto voice, the following ditty:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Ole ark she reel, ole ark she rock,</div> -<div class="verse">Settin’ up on de mountain-top.</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Ole ark a-movin’, movin’ chillun—</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Ole ark a-movin, I thank Gord!</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Ole hyah, whut make yo’ eye so pop?</div> -<div class="verse">I thank Gord fuh tuh see how tuh hop!</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Ole ark a-movin’, movin’, chillun—</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Ole ark a-movin’, I thank Gord!</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Ole hyah, whut make yo’ legs so thin?</div> -<div class="verse">I thank Gord fuh tuh split ’gin de win’!</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Ole ark a-movin’, movin’, chillun—</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Ole ark a-movin’, I thank Gord!</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Ole hyah, whut make yo’ hade so bal’?</div> -<div class="verse">I thank Gord ben butt ’gin de wall!</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Ole ark a-movin’, movin’, chillun—</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Ole ark a-movin’, I thank Gord!”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Before Roden could say anything, she -rose and put aside her spinning-wheel, -holding out to him her long shapely hand, -which was covered with tan as with a -brown glove to within about an inch of her -homespun sleeve. “Good-night,” she said; -“I’m sleepy. Father won’t be here now -till tuh-morrer. I s’pec’ he slept at Cyarver’s. -Everything’s ready—your barth an’ -everything.”</p> - -<p>Thus dismissed, Roden took himself off<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -to bed. As he dropped to sleep to the -tune of “Ole ark a-movin’,” he was conscious -of uncomfortable memories concerning -haunted rooms in old Virginian mansions. -Not that he believed in ghosts—Heaven -forbid!—but some one might—some -little nigger, you know—might play -one a trick.</p> - -<p>He was roused suddenly and unpleasantly -by three solemn raps on the door at his -bed’s head.</p> - -<p>“Well—what is it?” he said, in an unnecessarily -loud tone.</p> - -<p>“’Tis me—Aun’ Tishy,” replied an unmistakable -voice. “Please come to de do’, -sur, jess a minute.”</p> - -<p>He answered this appeal, opening the -door cautiously an inch or two, whereupon -she thrust into his hands a little white -bundle.</p> - -<p>“Dis heah’s fo’ yo’ to war tuh-night. -Marse Gawge he don’ war no night-shuts, -and dey am none o’ th’ other Englishers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -lef’ none; so I jess stole you one o’ Miss -Faginny’s. Don’ say nothin’ ’bout it, -please, sur, ’case ef dar <em>is</em> one thing Miss -Faginny’s ’tic’lar ’bout, ’tis her clo’es.”</p> - -<p>Roden took the long white garment gingerly, -as men lift a young baby, bade Aunt -Tishy good-night, and closed the door. -He then went to the fire and began to examine -what that colossal personage had -inferred to be “Miss Faginny’s night-shut.”</p> - -<p>It was a capacious arrangement of very -thin linen, and superfine little frills of a -like material—hardly the garment in which -an overseer’s daughter would have wooed -repose. The young man looked at it carefully -and gravely from all points of view, -then went and hung it over the mirror, and -returning to bed, regarded it with the mute -attention which he had before bestowed on -the drab-colored Madonna. It was a dainty -thing, probably a relic of some previous -Englishman’s wife or daughter, and the -rosy light from the handful of fresh cones<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -which he had thrown on the fire stole in -and out of its sheer folds caressingly.</p> - -<p>He left it hanging there, and the last -thing he remembered that night was its -gleam, as of a pretty ghost in the firelit -dusk of the big room.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="II">II.</h2> - -<p>He could have sworn that he had slept -but a moment when a terrific squeaking -and squealing, yelping and growling, under -his windows, aroused him with sufficient -abruptness.</p> - -<p>His first idea was that the “’coons and -things” were “killin’ each other clean out,” -after the fashion of Miss Virginia’s supposition -in regard to the Scriptural beasts in -the story of the ark.</p> - -<p>Looking out, however, he saw that a -large black and white hog was being -chased, nipped, barked at, and otherwise -maltreated by the mastiff and the collie. -The frightened beast rushed hither and -thither, squealing and grunting, and the -two dogs followed, falling over each other -in the eagerness of pursuit. After a while<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -the mad trio disappeared to the farther end -of the long terrace.</p> - -<p>Dawn had just broken. The east was -one deep even tone of mellow gold, translucent, -palpitating. Over against it lay -gray streamers as of a tattered banner. -The morning-star seemed to spin with a -cold blue glitter as of ice in the voluptuous -saffron of its setting. A band of trees -stood out against the vivid east, with bold -relief of indigo leaves and branches, like a -gigantic tracery of unknown hieroglyphics. -Over field and lawn a white steam rose -and melted slowly—blue hill and tawny -meadow appearing and disappearing as the -pearly masses rolled together or dissolved.</p> - -<p>Roden heard with supreme delight the -confidential voice of a little nigger announcing -through the key-hole (their favorite -channel of communication) that his -“trunks dun come.”</p> - -<p>He got with all speed through his ablutions, -and, when his boxes were brought,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -into a well-worn shooting-coat and knickerbockers, -determining as he laced his hob-nailed -boots to “do” the farm thoroughly -that morning, and devote the rest of the -day to mountain-climbing and explorations -generally.</p> - -<p>As he went out on the square portico at -the front of the house he met Miss Herrick, -again in her boy’s dress, leading the -mastiff and the collie with either hand. -She had evidently been to the rescue of -the black and white hog, and both dogs -had a sneaky appearance, as though they -knew a flogging was in store for them.</p> - -<p>“Mornin’,” she said to Roden, with her -grave directness of regard. “How’d you -sleep?”</p> - -<p>Before he could reply, a voice, rising in -long, wailing tones upon the chill air, interrupted -them.</p> - -<p>“O-o-o-o Po!” it called; “O-o-o-o <em>Po</em>!” -then a pause as if waiting for a reply. Then -again, “Aw-w-w Po-po! Aw-w-w <em>Po</em>-po!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> - -<p>“It’s father callin’ Popo,” explained Virginia.</p> - -<p>“Who’s Popo? -Another nigger?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” briefly.</p> - -<p>“What does ‘Popo’ -stand for? Napoleon?” questioned -Roden, much interested.</p> - -<p>“No,” she said. -“’F you wait an’ listen -you’ll hear. Father -always calls like -that at first. ’F Po -answers tuhecly he’ll -jus’ stop. ’F he -don’t answer, father’ll -jus’ go on -callin’ till he says -th’ whole name.”</p> - -<div id="illus3" class="figright" style="width: 170px;"> -<img src="images/i_048.jpg" width="170" height="400" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">“AW-W-W POPO!”</p> -</div> - -<p>Roden listened with absorbed attention.</p> - -<p>“O-o-o-o Popo! Popo! Popo!” rang<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -out the voice, with angry staccato insistence. -“You Popo! Aw-w-w! you <em>Po</em>po!” -Then, presently, “O-o-o-o! you Po-po-cat-e-petl!”</p> - -<p>“Good heavens!” said Roden, bursting -into laughter. “Is that really the poor -little devil’s name?”</p> - -<p>“Mh—mh,” said Virginia, with a nod of -assent. “There was three of ’em born all -to oncet. One’s called Popocatepetl, an’ -one Iztaccihuatl, an’ one Orizaba. We call -’em Popo, an’ Whattle, an’ Zabe.”</p> - -<p>“That triumvirate ought to rule something,” -said Roden. “Could a nigger ever -be President, Miss Virginia? What a lark -it would be to speak of President Popocatepetl! -What’s the other name?”</p> - -<p>“Page,” said Miss Herrick.</p> - -<p>“Page!” echoed the young Englishman—“<em>Page?</em> -why surely that name belongs -to the ‘F.F.V.’s,’ doesn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“All the darkies took th’ name o’ th’ -fam’lies they b’longed to after th’ war,” she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -explained. “I had a cook here oncet -called Faginia Herrick; she used to b’long -to father ’fo’ th’ war.”</p> - -<p>“By gad!” was Roden’s sole remark. -“By <em>gad</em>!” said he again.</p> - -<p>“<em>You</em> needn’t say nothin’!” she exclaimed, -breaking suddenly into her melodious -laughter; “there’s two little right <em>black</em> niggers -at th’ mill, an’ one’s called Prince Albert -and th’ other Queen Victoria, ’n’ ’f you -leave off th’ ‘Prince’ or th’ ‘Queen’ they -won’t answer you, neether.”</p> - -<p>She was evidently delighted with his expression -of face at this, and released the -two dogs in order to indulge more freely -in her mirthful mood. She sat down on -the stone steps, letting her arms hang simply -at her sides, and putting down her -head, laughed into the hollow lap of her -gray kirtle, as though confiding her surplus -merriment to its care.</p> - -<p>It was at this moment that the overseer -came into sight—a tall, gaunt man, with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -beard that seemed flying away with his -round head, after the fashion of a comet’s -tail; little steely blue eyes drawing close -to the bridge of his nose as though it magnetized -them; long, crooked teeth, not unlike -the palings in one of his own fences -for tint and irregularity; and a wide-open -square smile, like the smile of a Greek -comic mask. He wore a waistcoat of as -many hues as Joseph’s renowned garment, -a blue cotton shirt, ginger-colored trousers -tucked into heavy mud-crusted boots, and -a straw hat, impossible to describe, tilted -to the back of his head. In his arms he -carried the little black-and-tan terrier -which Roden remembered, and twisted its -untrimmed ears while talking.</p> - -<p>“Howdy? howdy?” he remarked, genially. -“My darter Faginia’s tole me ’bout -you. Got all yo’ clo’es lef in Washin’ton? -Hey? Got ’em this mornin’? You don’ -sesso? Well! My darter Faginia says as -how you’re goin’ in fur horse-racin’? That<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -so? You don’ sesso? Well, what d’you -think er my darter Faginia, anyhow? -Darter, go ’n’ bring me some water; I’m -mortal thirsty.” Then, as the girl disappeared, -“Well, what d’you think er -her?”</p> - -<p>“She seems to me very—very charming,” -ventured Roden.</p> - -<p>“Well, sir, you ’ain’t got no more idea -of th’ sweethearts that girl’s had—I mean -would ’a’ had ’f I’d ’lowed it. The las’ one -was Jim Murdoch, a hoop-pole man. But, -sir”—here Mr. Herrick assumed a tone of -the most pompous dignity—“but I will tole -you, sir, as how my darter Faginia shall -deceive <em>no</em> retentions, <em>respecially</em> from a -hoop-pole man!”</p> - -<p>“A hoop-pole man?” said Roden.</p> - -<p>“That thar’s hit, sir, an’ I cert’n’y means -what I says,” replied the overseer, relapsing -again into his former slipshod easiness of -speech and manner. “Consequently were, -the beauty of the question air my darter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -Faginia won’t get married twel she gets a -mighty good offer.”</p> - -<p>“I should say you were perfectly right,” -assented Roden.</p> - -<p>“Well, yes, sir; I should sesso. I s’pose -you ain’t married, air you?”</p> - -<p>“No. Do I look very like a married -man?” said Roden, who continued to be -amused. He thought the overseer almost -as interesting as Virginia.</p> - -<p>“Well, no,” assented old Herrick, manipulating -his abundant beard with an -air of deep thought. “But the beauty -of the question air, you kyarn’t al’uz tell. -Them as looks the mostest married gen’ly -ain’t. An’ contrarywise, them as don’t, -air—”</p> - -<p>“Married?” said Roden.</p> - -<p>“Well, considerbul, mostly,” said the -overseer.</p> - -<p>Here Virginia returned with a gourd of -water, keeping the quick-falling drops from -her father’s not too immaculate attire while<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -he drank by means of her skilfully hollowed -hands.</p> - -<p>“Yo’ breakfas’ ’s ready,” she said over -her shoulder to Roden. He went in, and -found it to be a slight variation on the last -night’s meal. There were some corn-meal -cakes—batter cakes, Virginia called them—and -miraculously cooked mutton-chops. -A half-hour later the overseer appeared at -the window to offer his services as guide -over the farm.</p> - -<p>When Roden returned from his investigations -it was one of the great clock in the -hall, and the sky like a vast blue banner -overhead.</p> - -<p>He went out on the “front porch,” and -called to Herrick as he crossed “the yard,” -with the little terrier at his heels. “Is -there a good view from that hill just back -of the house?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Mos’ people goes fyar crazy over it,” -said Herrick. “Hit’s a right rough climb -to the top. Want tuh go up? Faginia<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -kin show you. O-o-o-o-o Faginia! Faginia!”</p> - -<p>Virginia appeared, clad from throat to -heels in a vast brown apron, her half-bare -arms covered with flour, and her thick -braids skewered across the top of her head -with a big wooden knitting-needle.</p> - -<p>“Makin’ bread?” said her father. “Well, -yo’ kin get yo’ mammy to finish that. Mr. -Roden here he wants to go trapeezing up -to th’ top o’ Peter’s Mountain. I tole him -you could show him.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” she said, briefly; “but I -kyarn’t walk: the Alderney heifer stepped -on my foot this mornin’. I’ll ride if you -like:” this last to Roden.</p> - -<p>“By all means,” he said; “but if you do -not mind, I had rather walk.”</p> - -<p>“Of co’se,” she said, and disappeared -again.</p> - -<p>“The beauty of the question air,” said -her sire, looking proudly after her, “that -gyrl kin ride like a Injun.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> - -<p>“She seems to do everything well,” said -Roden, with a pleased recollection of those -mutton-chops which Aunt Tishy had confided -to him “Miss Faginia done herself.”</p> - -<p>“She cert’n’y does,” said Herrick, and -after making some unique excuse disappeared -also.</p> - -<p>Miss Herrick appeared a few moments -later, again clad in her boyish attire, and -mounted upon a fidgety little roan mare. -She had slung a wicker basket from the -saddle, and Roden heard a merry clink as -of glass kissing silver when the mare sidled -about.</p> - -<p>“That’s a clever-looking little nag,” said -Roden. “Is she yours?”</p> - -<p>“Nuck,” said Virginia. “I reckon she’s -yours; she goes with the place.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t see her this morning,” Roden -said, somewhat puzzled.</p> - -<p>“No; she’d gone to the shop to get a -new shoe; that’s why. I reckon you’ll -name her over.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Why?” said Roden. It seemed to him -he had never put that monosyllabic question -so often before in the entire course of -his life.</p> - -<p>“’Cause it ain’t very pretty,” Virginia -explained. “Father named her—it’s Pokeberry.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” said Roden, laughing. -“I rather fancy it. It’s uncommon, -to say the least. I don’t think I’ll change -it.”</p> - -<p>“Well, there’s two others I <em>know</em> you’ll -change,” she asserted. “They’re two carriage-horses, -an’ they’re named Peckerwood -an’ Hoppergrass.”</p> - -<p>“Capital!” said Roden, laughing again. -“Change them?—not much! Shall we -start now?”</p> - -<p>It was a perfect day—perfect as only a -day in Southern winter-tide can be. The -air was radiant, wine-like, while with a still -further suggestiveness little glittering insects -spun around and around in the sunlight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -like the particles of gold-leaf in eau-de-vie -de Dantzic. The roads, dried in -some sort by the steady wind of the past -night and morning, were mellowed to a -dull orange in lieu of their former startling -crimson. Infinite tones of faded browns -and grays wrapped wold and hill-side. The -sky, of an intense metallic pallor, was covered -with gauze-like masses of wind-torn -cirri. As they went on, a sycamore thrust -its bone-white arms before a dark hollow -in the mountain-side, reminding one of a -skeleton guarding the mouth of a cavern, -where during its life it had concealed some -treasure. The harsh call of crows, beginning -in the far east, passed in <i lang="it">crescendo</i> -above their heads, and died away as the -heavy birds flew westward.</p> - -<p>Virginia, apparently unconscious of his -presence, was watching Roden narrowly as -he walked at her side. Owing to that peculiar -faculty with which only women are -endowed, she was enabled thus to observe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -him while seemingly absorbed in the sun-shot -vista of the road before them. He -had taken off his coat, as the increasing -sunlight and the exertion of walking had -overheated him, and his flannel shirt expressed -damply the splendid modelling of -his supple body. She noticed how the sunburn -stopped in a line about his throat, the -fair flesh showing beneath with a girlish -whiteness, as is often the case with very -strong men.</p> - -<p>“It’s a heap whiter than mine,” thought -Virginia.</p> - -<p>“I wish you’d sing,” he said, suddenly. -“Will you?”</p> - -<p>“A nigger song?” said the girl, with a -growing intuition in regard to his wishes. -She then sang as follows:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Bright sunny mornin’</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Nigger feel good,</div> -<div class="verse">Axe on he shoulder</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Goin’ fur de wood.</div> -<div class="verse">Little piece er hoe-cake</div> -<div class="verse indent1">’Thout any fat;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -<div class="verse">White folks quoil</div> -<div class="verse indent1">’Case he eat all o’ dat.</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Hop ’long, hop ’long, hop ’long, Peter,</div> -<div class="verse indent3">Hop ’long, Peter’s son!</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Hoppergrass sittin’ on a sweet-e’ayter vine,</div> -<div class="verse indent3">Big tuckey-gorbler come up behine,</div> -<div class="verse indent3">Hop ’long, Peter’s son.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“One bright mornin’ John did go</div> -<div class="verse">Down in de medder fur ter mow;</div> -<div class="verse">Ez he mowed acrost de fiel’</div> -<div class="verse">Great big sarpint bit him on de heel.</div> -<div class="verse">He juck it up right in he hand,</div> -<div class="verse">And back he went tuh Maury Ann;</div> -<div class="verse">‘Oh, Maury Ann, oh, don’ you see,</div> -<div class="verse">One ole sarpint done bit me!’</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Hop ’long, hop ’long, hop ’long, Peter,</div> -<div class="verse indent3">Hop ’long, Peter’s son.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Roden was delighted with her rich, reed-noted -voice. She imitated the negroes’ -tones to perfection. The inflection and -intonation were without fault.</p> - -<p>“How well you do it!” he said. “It’s -really awfully pretty. Can’t you give me -another?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> - -<p>She sang him one or two more, and ended -by repeating in a singsong fashion a little -rhyme which convulsed him:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Mars’r had a leetle dorg,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">An’ he was three parts houn’;</div> -<div class="verse">Ev’y time he strike a trail</div> -<div class="verse indent1">He bounce up off de groun’.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“They make up all these things, of -course?” he asked her.</p> - -<p>“Oh yes,” said Virginia: “they’re awful -fond of ‘makin’ hymes,’ as they call it. -Here’s another:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Ef I had a needle an’ thread,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Big ez I could sew,</div> -<div class="verse">I’d stitch my ’Liza to my side,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">An’ off down de road I’d go.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>He amused himself by trying to sing -some of the various ditties after her, but, -as they began to ascend the mountain, -found that he needed all the breath at his -command.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> - -<p>The dead leaves, sodden with the winter -rains, closed in masses about the feet of -Pokeberry, and of the young Englishman -as he tramped untiringly at her muzzle. -The shaft of a young pine rose slender and -virginal from the lace-work of bare trees, -its plumy crest breaking with lucent emerald -the sea-blue reach of sky. A cardinal-bird -flashed, with unconscious contrast, -against the neutral tints of the woody distance, -meshed as it were in the multitudinous -glittering of sunlit twigs. From the -leaf-stirred silence, far in the heart of the -forest, came the urgent rat-a-plan of a woodpecker. -Dead leaves occasionally, loosened -by the fitful wind, fell, turning slowly -in their descent, now between the startled -ears of Pokeberry, themselves most leaf-like, -now upon Virginia’s skirt or hat, as she -sat wordless, listlessly supporting the reins -upon her knee.</p> - -<p>They came presently to a narrow mountain -stream, clear and brown, over the sunken<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -leaves. The sunlight through the swaying -tendrils of a wild grape-vine overhead -sent dim but sharply defined shadows wavering -back and forth over its bright surface, -as though, being spiritualized, they -breathed with a new life. A corn-crake, -moving cautiously among the withered water-grasses, -thrust forward its gay crest and -peered inquisitively at them, whereupon the -collie cleared the brook with an arching -bound, and set forth in mad pursuit of this -new quarry. The crake at once rose into -the blue lift, with the harsh, derisive cry -from which it takes its name.</p> - -<p>After a while they came upon a log-cabin -set in a little patch of cleared ground. From -a small window close against the roof flaunted -a mud-stained curtain of sacking. The -red clay marks responded to a certain morbidness -in Virginia, by suggesting the wiping -of bloody hands upon the coarse stuff. -There had been a murder some years before -on this very mountain, and thoughts of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> -a grewsome sort were easily called forth in -her when remembering. A few black-and-white -pigs of the genus “nigger” hurtled -squealing down the hill-side, pursued by the -indefatigable collie, while a little fawn-colored -child, with whity-brown hair and purplish-white -eyes, stood in the door and apparently -bit its thumb at them.</p> - -<p>“Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?” -quoted Roden, cheerily, whereat the little -darky fled, with a shrill “Yah!” of mingled -delight and terror, into the bacon-perfumed -room beyond.</p> - -<p>They were now stopped by some draw-bars, -which passed, they found themselves -ascending a steep incline sown with large -stones, as though Jove and his giants might -have had a sharp encounter just in that -spot. But having gained the top of the -bluff, they came upon a view at which Roden -stood and stared in silent admiration. -It seemed to him that he had never before -so entirely realized the ball-like character of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -the earth. It seemed now to be swinging -like a magician’s globe, imprisoned in another -of larger size, which was hollowed -from some marvellous, million-colored gem.</p> - -<p>The air had changed suddenly from balmy -warmth to a strange damp keenness, while -the sky, which had cleared on their way up, -was strewn from east to west with the same -woolly clouds which had at first covered it. -All above them was a lustrous monotone of -gray, brightening towards the east into a -pale daffodil, and farther towards the south -into a lurid orange. From south to west a -band of vivid violet-blue stretched solidly, -cleft here and there with wedges of pale -light slanting in regular order, like the bayonets -of a vast army marching eastward.</p> - -<p>“That,” said Virginia, indicating the gorgeous -phenomenon, “means rain.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I think not,” said Roden, carelessly.</p> - -<p>“Very well,” said Miss Herrick.</p> - -<p>The wind blew ever stronger and stronger -from the north, shifting suddenly to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -north-east. Virginia felt a heavy splash of -water upon her hand. She said nothing, -but held it out to Roden in silence, and at -the same moment the wind, scolding like an -old hag who has been deprived by some adventurous -urchin of her dinner, bore down -upon them.</p> - -<p>“Never mind,” said Roden, “we are only -about a quarter of a mile from the top.”</p> - -<p>“Won’t you put on your coat now?” said -Virginia, blinded by the blowing of her hair -into her eyes.</p> - -<p>He replied that he did not feel the need -of it, and strode on a little ahead. The wind -sent his shirt in fine ripples across his back. -One could distinctly see the muscles at -work beneath the flexible skin. Strength, -above all things, was what this little barbarian -admired, and she saw it now in a perfection -which filled her with unconscious -satisfaction.</p> - -<p>“My! couldn’t he double that braggin’ -Joe Scott up!” she told herself. “Whew!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -I’d like to see somebody make him right -mad. Couldn’t he lick ’em!”</p> - -<p>As they neared the summit the gale became -more furious. Roden was obliged to -lead the thoroughly frightened mare, and -Virginia’s long hair, becoming unbound, -whipped with the sting of a lash across his -face. She recaptured and held it firmly -with one hand, while he, furtively observing -it, thought it must be at least two yards in -length. She assumed a new phase in his -eyes, wrapped thus in her plenteous tresses. -A certain boyish look, transmitted to her -through the medium of the short locks -about her brow, had vanished completely. -She looked like some mountain Godiva -hidden all as in a banner of cloth of gold. -Roden wondered if such marvellous hair -was a characteristic of Southern women.</p> - -<p>They came at last to the one stunted -apple-tree which crowned the noble crest -of the mountain, with an effect as bathetic -as the scalp-lock of an Indian brave. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -wind screamed through the gnarled ground-kissing -branches with the sound of a gale -through cordage. Pokeberry squatted ignominiously -in the fierce hurly, and put -back her nervous ears, while Virginia swung -from the saddle. Once on the ground, she -found that to keep the perpendicular was a -matter of some skill. She put one arm -around a mass of the tangled branches and -looked up at Roden with a laugh, which -was seized and dashed down the steep declivity -or ever it reached his ears. He in -the mean time having tethered the mare -securely, resumed his coat, and unbinding -his covert-coat from the saddle, offered to -help the girl on with it. She looked at him -in evident surprise, but made no resistance. -As she loosened the branches in order to -put her arms into the sleeves, which were -whirling wildly, with an air of reckless intoxication, -a sharp gust blew her, coat and -all, directly into Roden’s arms.</p> - -<p>He laughed, disentangling himself as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -best he might from the wet bondage of -her heavy locks, but she, reddening vividly -through all her clear, sun-browned skin, -gave her attention to the garment that he -held. It seemed to her a strange thing -that he should offer to lend it. She had -been on rainy expeditions with many men, -both English and Virginian, while none that -she could remember had ever before offered -to protect her in such wise from the inclemency -of her native heavens.</p> - -<p>She looked down a little consciously at -the weather-stained tan-color of the little -coat. She felt that it would be an insult -to suggest to so mighty a pedestrian the -idea of taking cold; at the same time she -was afraid that such would be the memento -he would bear away with him from the top -of Peter’s Mountain. As for herself, she -was as accustomed to wind and rain as one -of the big oxeye daisies in her own fields.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> - -<div id="illus4" class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<img src="images/i_070.jpg" width="400" height="600" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">ON THE TOP OF PETER’S MOUNTAIN.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> - -<p>“There’s some sandwiches an’ a glass in -that basket,” she said, or rather shrieked,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -to Roden. He went to get them, tacking -through the stiff wind with much dexterity, -and they partook of thin slices of Aunt -Tishy’s bread and Virginian ham with a -heroic disregard of the downpour. All at -once they were confronted by a small ebon -figure, hatless and breathless.</p> - -<p>“<em>Popo!</em>” said Miss Herrick; “what in -the name o’ sense are you doin’ here?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Miss Faginia, Miss Faginia,” howled -the little black, “de lightnin’ dun gone -thoo Marse Johnson’s house an’ kill he an’ -he horg! An’ I wuz so skeered ’bout you -I jess took out an’ run up de mounting to -see ef you wuz all right.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I am,” said his mistress. “You -pore little thing, how wet you are! Come -and get here under these branches.”</p> - -<p>The faithful Popocatepetl came and -crouched on his heels at her side. He -was drenched to the skin, and his dark -hide showed in patches through his shirt -of some thin white stuff, which elsewhere<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -puffed out in irregular blisters, like the -wet linen in a washer-woman’s tub. From -a strange freak of nature, not unusual in -these Virginian mountains, his knotty wool -was of a pale tan-color. It is a mistake to -think that the little negro perpetually grins. -Nothing absolutely could have been more -full of woe and resignation than the expression -of the young Popo as he watched -with Pokeberry the ceaseless flood that -swept over hill and valley.</p> - -<p>Although comparatively sheltered, there -still escaped through the tangled apple-boughs -moisture sufficient to prove extremely -unpleasant. The large drops fell -heavy and monotonous, some into the furry -hollows of the mare’s flexile ears, causing -her to toss her head with a swift impatience -of movement that set the little metal -buckles on her head-gear tinkling faintly, -some upon Roden’s breast and hands, some -upon the uncovered head and cheeks of the -girl at his side. She tossed her head once<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -or twice with a close reproduction of Pokeberry’s -impulsive gestures.</p> - -<p>The surrounding mountains were by this -time entirely blotted from sight by the lead-colored -sheets of wind-urged rain. The -branches of the trees on the slopes below -them seemed living creatures, who, frantic -with alarm, tugged and twisted to free themselves -from their native boles, and to flee -before the ruffian wind that assaulted them. -Blown leaves, like troops of frightened birds, -were driven past in gusts. Not a sound -was to be heard save the ceaseless hiss of -the rain on the hard ground, the creaking -of the tortured trees, and the fluctuating -roar of the wind above all else. Pokeberry, -cowed and shivering, gazed wistfully down -at the swimming field below.</p> - -<p>The darkness had increased palpably -within the last five minutes, and the wind, -raging downward through the stems of -the tall pines on the eastern slope of the -mountain, made a sound like to the angry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -breathing of some giant through his -locked teeth.</p> - -<p>“That is almost wolfish,” said Roden.</p> - -<p>“There <em>was</em> wolves in these mountains -when my father was a little boy,” she responded.</p> - -<p>Darker clouds seemed to be ever rolling -up from the east, veined with glittering -threads of lightning, which pierced the irregular -masses on all sides like the fronds -of an immense leaf. The trees on the slopes, -still wind-swept, seemed anon pale with terror -or dark with dread as their light and -dark leaves were alternately tossed upward. -Over against the west was a dull citrine -glare, like the smoke that overhangs a battle-field -on a sunlit day, reflected here and -there in the slimy soil and rain-roughened -waters of a stream some way beneath them.</p> - -<p>Suddenly Virginia turned and swung out -of Roden’s coat with one of her swift movements. -“Please put it on,” she said to him.</p> - -<p>“Why, no,” he said; “I don’t want it. I’m<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -perfectly comfortable. I don’t know why I -brought it—unless from a happy inspiration -in regard to you,” he added, pleasantly. She -turned from him, and stooping, wrapped the -shivering Popo in it.</p> - -<p>“They feel the cole so!” she said to Roden, -standing erect again. “An’ I never -wrop up.” Roden did not know whether -to laugh or to swear.</p> - -<p>When the rain had abated somewhat, and -they returned to Caryston, he told himself, -as he soothed his inner man with some excellent -Scotch whiskey, that he “really rather -liked it in the girl; but—d—n the little -nigger!—that was my pet coat!”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="III">III.</h2> - -<p>Roden was the younger son of an Englishman -of title. He was also what is sometimes -graphically described as being <i lang="fr">sans le -sou</i>. It was his intention to try stud-farming -in Virginia. No better horseman than -Roden ever put boot in stirrup. He had, -as an old pad-groom once remarked, “a genus -for osses.” It was a mania, a fad of the -most pronounced type, with him. No woman’s -eye had ever possessed for him half the -charm that did the full orbs of his favorite -mare, Bonnibel, as she gazed lustrously -upon him over her well-filled manger. No -sheen of woman’s hair had ever vied, in his -opinion, with the satin flanks of Bonnibel. -What was it to love a woman? Was it -half the zest, the delight, of feeling a good -horse between one’s knees, what time the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -welcome cry of “Gone away!” makes glad -delirium in one’s veins, while the music of -the spotted darlings thrills air and soul? -Roden would bluntly and unpoetically have -informed you that you were a “duffer” had -you attempted to argue the point. He had -never cared much for women, either collectively -or as individuals. They had perhaps -played too small a part in his life. -“Egad, sir!” his father had cried to him -one day in a fit of anger, “you’ll grow up -with a pair of legs like pot-hooks!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Herrick informed him, on the second -day after his arrival, that “the beauty -of the question were, he cert’n’y did have a -mighty good foothold on a hawse.”</p> - -<p>It was on that day also that most of the -horses arrived from New York—Bonnibel -among them. She was as beautiful a daughter -as Norseman ever sired. Deep of girth, -clean of limb, broad of loin, with splendid -oblique shoulders, bossed with sinew and -muscle which quivered with restrained power<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> -beneath the silky, supple hide; a small -compact head with ample front, over which -the sensitive leaf-like ears kept restless -guard; great limpid eyes, a crest like a -rainbow, and quarters to have lifted Leander -clean over the Hellespont. In color -she was a rich brown, touched with tan on -muzzle and flanks, while the slight floss -of mane and tail had also flecks of gold -towards the ends, like those in the locks of -some dark-haired women. Like her great-granddam, -Fleur-de-Lis, she stood full sixteen -hands, but was neither leggy nor light -of bone.</p> - -<p>“May I give her an apple?” said Virginia, -as she turned her slow, dark look -from Bonnibel to her master. That sagacious -damosel was already reaching after -the coveted golden ball in the girl’s hand, -with cajoling little movements of her soft -nose. Having obtained permission, Miss -Herrick threw one arm over the mare’s -graceful crest and presented her with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -apple—one of those renowned Albemarle -pippins on which no duty is demanded by -England’s gracious queen.</p> - -<p>Bonnibel ate it with evident participation -in her sovereign’s good taste, rubbing her -handsome head against the girl’s arm with -an almost cat-like softness of caress.</p> - -<p>“I don’ s’pose any one ever rides her but -you?” said Virginia, with a suggestion of -wistfulness in her low voice.</p> - -<p>“Well, no,” said Roden; “only the lad -who gives her her gallops. She is as kind -as a kitten, but rather hot-headed and excitable. -Why do you ask? Would you -like to ride her?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, of co’se I would,” said the girl, -calmly; “but you needn’t bother; I know -how Englishmen are ’bout their horses. -Some time, if the boy as rides her gets sick, -if you’ll let me I’ll show you whether I kin -ride or no.”</p> - -<p>“Your father says you ride like an Indian,” -said Roden.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> - -<p>She moved her shoulders beneath her -loose gray jacket with something very like -a shrug. “I don’t bleeve father ever saw -a Injun in his life,” she remarked. “You -wait; I’ll show you.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t doubt you have a good seat,” -said Roden, pleasantly; he took particular -pains to speak pleasantly always to Herrick -and his daughter. “But the chief -thing with a horse like Bonnibel is the -hands. How are you about that?”</p> - -<p>“How do you mean?” she said, puzzled.</p> - -<p>“Why, have you nice light hands? Are -you gentle in handling your mount?”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” she said, with the comprehensive -indrawing of the breath which he was beginning -to recognize as one of her chief -characteristics. “You mean am I kind -about yerkin’ ’em. Well, I’ll tell you: I -never pulled any rougher on a horse’s -mouth in my life than I’d like anybody to -pull on mine.”</p> - -<p>“I wish some of my friends would take<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -that for their motto,” said Roden. “I’m -thinking I’ll let you ride Bonnibel some -time, if <em>she</em> will.” He ended with a smile.</p> - -<p>It was not more than a week afterwards -that he had occasion to require Virginia’s -services. One of the other horses, a rank, -irritable brute, called Usurper, had jammed -Roden’s shoulder quite severely against the -side of the box, and Bonnibel’s own especial -groom had been sent back to New -York to bring on two new-comers but just -arrived from England.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think she’ll stand a riding-skirt,” -he said, rather doubtfully, as the beautiful -beast was led out, reaching after the reins -with her supple neck.</p> - -<p>“I ain’t goin’ to ride her with one,” said -Virginia.</p> - -<p>He then saw that Bonnibel was saddled -with a man’s saddle, and the next moment -the girl was astride of the mare, the reins -gathered skilfully into her long brown fingers, -head erect, and hands well down—lithe,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -beautiful with the beauty of some -sunburnt, mountain-bred boy.</p> - -<p>As Bonnibel felt the strange touch upon -her mouth she wheeled, rearing a little, -and the girl’s soft hat was shaken from her -head. Roden wondered if he had ever -seen anything prettier than the sunlight on -the young Virginian’s sun-like curls, and -the glossy hide of Bonnibel.</p> - -<p>The mare was going quieter now, mincing -along and picking up her feet after a -fashion much in vogue among equine coquettes. -She was beginning to like the -feel of the light, firm hands, and to be -sensible of the masterly pressure of the -strong young knees upon her mighty shoulders.</p> - -<p>“By Jove! what a graceful seat the little -witch has got!” Roden said to himself -with sufficient admiration. “And hands as -steady as an old stager!—Gad!” This exclamation, -breaking forth at first from an -impulse of terror, ended in the relieved announcement,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -“That was fine; as I live it -was!”</p> - -<p>Bonnibel had bolted, going straight for -a snake-fence at the bottom of the hill on -which the stables were builded. To stop -her was, he knew, impossible; to turn her -aside on the slippery turf, more unreliable -than usual with the spring rains, would -have been culpably perilous. The fence -just here was fortunately not very high, -but Bonnibel had one serious fault. When -excited, she had a way of going at her -fences head down, after a fashion calculated -to break her own neck, and certainly -that of the person who rode her. He saw -the girl sit well down in the saddle, run the -bit through the mare’s mouth, and bring -her head up, showing her the leap in front -with a skill he could not himself have -rivalled; and Roden was no tyro. Bonnibel -cleared the rails in gallant form, and -Virginia then took her for a canter around -the field beyond.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> - -<p>She came up to Roden, ten minutes -later, with flushed cheeks and her great -eyes brilliant.</p> - -<p>“If she had a-hurt herself then,” she -said, flinging herself tempestuously to the -ground, “I’d ’a’ got one o’ th’ grooms to -kill me.” She turned and showered the -mare’s sleek crest with kisses, then tossed -the reins to Roden, and ran swiftly out of -sight towards the house. He thought her -the strangest creature he had ever seen.</p> - -<p>In the mean time the days wore on. -Roden was more than pleased with his Virginian -venture. He had three excellent -stables building, his gees were all in first-rate -condition, and his prospect for the provincial -races more than fair.</p> - -<p>Virginia now rode Bonnibel every day. -There sprung up between the two, mare -and woman, one of those mutual attachments -as rare in reality as they are common -in fiction. Virginia could catch the -nervous beast when it meant danger to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -others to come within reach of her iron-shod -heels. Virginia seemed to murmur -a strange language into her slender ears, -as certain in its effects as the whisper of -the Roumanians to their horses. For Virginia -would Bonnibel become as a spring -lamb for meekness, or one of her own -mountain-streams for impetuosity. It afforded -Roden a strange pleasure to watch -the relations which existed between this -beautiful savage maiden and his beautiful -savage mare.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, he found the girl -more than useful to him. She knew all -the owners of good horse-flesh in the surrounding -counties. She explored strange -woods with him, while it came to be an understood -thing that every day she should -go with him on his long tramps. She -marched sturdily at his side through brake -and brier. She had no skirts to tear, no -under-draperies of lace to draggle. She -was always good-tempered and never tired.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was one day about the middle of -March that they stood together on a windblown -hill-side. A dark-blue sky gleamed -overhead, set thickly with clouds of a vivid, -opaque white, like the figures on antique -Etruscan ware. The chain of distant hills -clasped the tawny winter earth, as a violet -ribbon might clasp the dusky body of an -Eastern slave. So like was the pale horizon -to a sunlit sea that the white gleam -of a wood-dove’s wing across it suggested -instantly to them both the idea of a -sail.</p> - -<p>There was a sound, now far, now near, -vague, intermittent, made by the rushing -of the wind through the dry grass in the -fields. The forlorn discord of the voices -of spring lambs reached their ears, together -with the reassuring monotone of the ewes. -A sudden commotion among the flock -caused Virginia to run suddenly forward, -shading her eyes with her hand.</p> - -<p>“It’s that narsty Erroll dorg again!” she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -said, wrathfully. “He’ll jess run those -sheep to death.”</p> - -<p>“What dog?” said Roden, coming up -beside her. “By Jove! it’s a German -sleuth-hound,” he added. “I’m afraid he’ll -play the deuce with your father’s sheep, -Miss Virginia.”</p> - -<p>“He will so, ef he ain’t stopped,” she -said, gloomily. “I didn’t know the Errolls -had come back to Windemere. Plague -gone him! Look there, now!”</p> - -<p>Just here came the shrill sound of a dog-whistle, -then a clear voice calling, “Laurin! -Laurin! Laurin, I say!”</p> - -<p>They saw a girl on a chestnut horse, -galloping towards the terrified, bleating -sheep. She gained upon the great hound, -came up with him, swung from her saddle, -and caught him by the collar. After a moment -or two she began to walk towards -them through the weeds and brambles -which overgrew the hill-side. As she -came nearer they could see that she held<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -a lamb beneath one arm. A tall, slight girl -in a dark habit, with dark curls escaping -about her forehead from her very correct -pot hat. The hound followed meekly. “I -am so very, very sorry,” she called out, -while yet some distance off. “I am afraid -my dog has hurt this poor little thing.” -As she came closer Roden saw that there -was blood on the lamb, and on the dog’s -dripping jaws.</p> - -<p>“Please look at it,” the girl said, wofully. -“I’m afraid nothing will ever break him. -He will have to be sent away. They are -your father’s sheep, aren’t they, Miss Herrick—you -are Miss Herrick?”</p> - -<p>Virginia lifted her full look to the -stranger’s face. “Yes, that’s my name,” -she answered. “Why don’t you muzzle -him, or keep him chained? He’ll get shot -some day.”</p> - -<p>The girl looked sadly down at her huge -pet. “I’m afraid he will,” she said, gently. -“I wish he wouldn’t do it. I can’t feel the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> -same to him. Ah, you beast!”—this last to -the recreant Laurin, in a tone of wrath. In -the mean time Roden had finished his examination -of the lamb.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think it’s serious,” he said, kindly; -“but it will have to be looked after a -bit. Miss Herrick here will doctor it successfully, -I’ve no doubt.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, couldn’t I have it?” said the girl, -eagerly. “I’m such a good hand at curing -things. Do let me have it, Miss Herrick.”</p> - -<p>“Take it if you want it,” said Virginia.</p> - -<p>“But cannot you have it sent?” said -Roden, as the girl held out her hand for -the lamb. “I am afraid you will get blood -all over your habit, Miss—” He had not -meant to fish for her name, and stopped -abruptly.</p> - -<p>She looked at him with a soft smiling -of lips and eyes. “My name is Erroll—Mary -Erroll,” she said. “And thank you, -I would rather take it. Laurin will follow -me now. <em>Ah</em>, you beast!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You will have to put it down until -you mount,” said Roden, laughing a little -in spite of himself, as the old lines about -Mary and her little lamb crossed his mind.</p> - -<p>“Oh no, I wouldn’t put it down,” she -said, hastily. “Miss Herrick will hold it for -me, won’t you?—and if you would be so -kind as to mount me, Mr. Roden.”</p> - -<p>“You know my name?” said Roden, as -he took the slight foot, arched like Bonnibel’s -crest, into his hand.</p> - -<p>“Why, who in the neighborhood does -not?” she said, settling herself in the saddle. -“Not to know you would be to argue -one’s self very much unknown in this -neighborhood. Now give me the lamb. -Thank you so much. Come, Laurin. Good-by, -Miss Herrick.” She placed the lamb -carefully against her side, whistled to the -hound, and started off at a round trot. Her -figure, in its trim Quorn-cloth habit, came -into bold relief against the vivid sky. He -watched admiringly the long supple waist<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -as it swayed to the motion of the horse, the -bold graceful sweep of the shoulders, and -high carriage of the small head. He had -read so much concerning the gathers and -gilt braid of the Virginian horsewoman -that it struck him as something entirely -strange, the fact that Miss Mary Erroll -should wear a neat, well-cut habit, and a -chimney-pot hat. He also recalled that -her saddle was all that it should be, and -that instead of the gold-and-ivory-handled -cutting whip which he had been led to expect, -she carried a light but sturdy crop.</p> - -<p>“By Jove! how she rides!” he said to -himself.</p> - -<p>“Don’t I ride as well?” came the soft -monotone of Virginia at his ear.</p> - -<p>He answered her, still with his eyes on -the vanishing figure of the girl in the -Quorn-cloth habit. “You ride like an -Arab,” he said. “She rides like—like—like -an Englishwoman.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t think I ride as well,” said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> -Virginia, in an indescribable voice, turning -away. She was filled with an unreasoning, -unchristian, wholly uncivilized desire to -mount Bonnibel, overtake, and spatter Miss -Mary Erroll with as much mud as possible. -Suddenly she turned and came back to -Roden. “I—I—I s’pose you think a gyrl -oughtn’ to ride straddle?” she said, with -an unusual hint of timidity in her rich -tones.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t know that there’s any harm -in it,” he said, carelessly. Again she stood -away from him. A feeling of utterly unreasonable -anger and rebellion was swelling in -her heart and straining her throat. Was -it against Miss Mary Erroll or against -Roden? She could not herself have told. -One fact was entirely apparent to her: he -did not deem what she did or did not do -things worthy his consideration.</p> - -<p>“I bet she couldn’t ride Bonnibel!” she -said, passionately, between her locked teeth, -as she went blindly on through the furze<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> -and briers. “I bet she couldn’t ride Bonnibel—straddle -or no straddle!”</p> - -<p>It was not until three days later that -she found out from her father the fact of -Roden’s having been to call (nominally) -upon the lamb of Miss Mary Erroll.</p> - -<p>“The beauty of the question air,” ended -that modern Solomon, as he filled his white -clay pipe—“The beauty of the question -air, that thar gyrl cert’n’y is goin’ to lead -that young fellar a darnce. They say she’s -got it down ter a fine p’int.”</p> - -<p>“What?” said Virginia, curtly.</p> - -<p>“Why, coquettin’—hyah! hyah! <em>That’s</em> -the darnce she’ll lead <em>him</em>. ’N’ they sez, -moresomever, as how th’ English fellars -takes to her like the partridges ter th’ -woods—plague ’em!—’count o’ her w’arin’ -boots like a man, an’ skirts at harf-marst -when she goes out on hawseback. Lawd! -I cert’n’y do ’spise ter see a woman hitched -onter th’ side uv er hawse like a pecker-wood -a-stickin’ ter rer tree-trunk!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> - -<p>Virginia came and leaned on the back -of his chair, picking some bits of straw -from his many-hued waistcoat. “You don’t -think it’s any harm for a girl to ride straddle, -do you, father?” she said, slowly.</p> - -<p>“Harm!” said old Herrick, twisting about -in his chair to look up at her—“<em>harm!</em>” He -set his pipe firmly between his teeth, and -pushed out his underlip with an expression of -entire scorn. “Is there any harm in a hoppergrass -hoppin’?” he questioned. “G’long! -don’ talk none o’ yo’ nonsense ter me!”</p> - -<p>This, however, did not entirely satisfy -her on the question in point.</p> - -<p>Roden was not a little astonished to meet -her, as she returned from giving Bonnibel -her morning gallop, in a very fair imitation -of Miss Mary Erroll’s habit, and an old pot -hat that had evidently belonged to some -one of the previous Englishmen.</p> - -<p>“Why, what a swell you are!” he said, -pleasantly, joining her. “But how does -Bonnibel like the change?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> - -<p>“It don’t make any diff’r’nce how she -likes it,” said Miss Herrick, curtly, adding -hastily, with a swift change of manner, -“She r’ared once or twice at first, but -that’s all.” Then she stopped suddenly, and -stepped around in front of him. “How—how -does it look—really?” she said, with a -shamefaced and comprehensive downward -glance at her skirt.</p> - -<p>“It looks awfully well,” Roden assured -her—“awfully well. How tall and strong -you are, Miss Virginia!”</p> - -<p>“I’ve got a right good mustle,” she said, -showing her handsome teeth in one of her -rare and vivid smiles. “Mornin’: I’ve got -a heap to do.”</p> - -<p>Roden watched her as she stalked away -with her splendid swinging stride, thinking -vaguely of her beauty and its absolute waste -in her position. “She’ll marry some ‘po’ -white’ who talks as much like a nigger as -her own father,” he thought, half regretfully; -“have a lot of children, and end by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -smoking a pipe—ugh!” He then went to -call, for the third time that week, upon Mary -Erroll. The visit ended by their going for -a ride, and just as they neared the gates of -Caryston a smart shower came pelting down -the eastern slope of Peter’s Mountain.</p> - -<p>“Do come in and wait until this is over,” -he said, urgently, bending from his horse -to open the long gray gate, which was now -proudly supported on strong hinges. “Miss -Herrick will chaperon us.”</p> - -<p>“Why, of course I’ll come,” she said, -amazed, in her Southern freedom, that he -should pause to question the propriety of -her so doing. At one o’clock in the day, -and with her little darky henchman mounting -guard, what possible objection could -any one find? She ran up the stone steps -with a pretty clattering of her boots, and -Roden threw wide the doors of the great -hall. She was delighted with everything; -got on a chair to examine the great moose-head; -struck some chords on an old harp<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -that she discovered in a dark corner; made -friends with the collie and one of the Persian -cats, who came purring up from the -recess of a distant window; looked over -his collection of curious weapons; and on -finding that he had spent some years of his -life in Mexico, questioned him about his experiences -there with a pretty assumption of -almost motherly interest.</p> - -<p>“Can’t you say some—some Mexican?” -she said. “I should so like to hear it.”</p> - -<p>“I love you, most beautiful of maidens,” -said Roden, lazily, in the Mexican patois.</p> - -<p>“What does that mean? It sounds enchanting.”</p> - -<p>“It means enchantment.”</p> - -<p>She leaned suddenly forward and looked -at him with her bright, soft, childishly chaste -eyes. “Mr. Roden,” she said, sweetly, “if I -were not very sure you were only laughing, -I should accuse you of trying to ensnare -my simple country soul with a spurious -sentimentality.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> - -<p>Roden roused himself from his lounging -position in one of the big hall chairs with -a jerk. An expression half of amusement, -half of guilt, crossed his handsome sunburnt -face. “You are very unjust,” he -said. “I am certainly not laughing, and I -couldn’t be sentimental if I tried.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! oh!” she said, with her pretty -Southern accent. “How very, how rudely -unflattering!”</p> - -<p>“I meant I would not have to try to be -so—with you,” said Roden, dexterously -mendacious.</p> - -<p>“How very, how rudely untruthful!”</p> - -<p>They were here told by Popocatepetl that -“lunch dun rade-y.”</p> - -<p>Roden’s meals were generally presided -over by Virginia, and she came forward to -meet him now with a little silver dish of -apples in one hand, evidently utterly ignorant -of the presence of Mary Erroll. She -stopped short, half-way across the room. A -shadow as definite and sombre as the shadow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -from a brilliant cloud upon a laughing -grass-field in May settled over her face.</p> - -<p>“I’ll have to fix another place,” she said, -curtly, and turned her back upon them in -order to do so.</p> - -<p>Miss Erroll expressed herself charmed -with her luncheon. She ate bread and -honey with all the gusto of the queen of -nursery lore, taking off her riding-gloves -and showing long, flower-like hands, that -were reflected as whitely in the polished -mahogany of the round table as the pale -primroses which adorned its centre.</p> - -<p>Virginia moved about noiselessly. All -at once she stopped beside Roden, and put -one hand heavily on the back of his chair. -He looked up in some surprise. Her eyes -were flashing under her bent brows, like -the “brush fires” of her native State under -a night horizon.</p> - -<p>“I’ll wait on <em>you</em>,” she said, in a smothered -voice—“I say I’ll wait on <em>you</em>, <em>but I -won’t wait on her</em>.” She dashed down his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -napkin, which she had lifted from the floor, -and strode with her swift, noiseless movements -to the door.</p> - -<p>“Virginia!” said Roden, aghast—“Virginia!”</p> - -<p>“I don’t care!” cried the girl, passionately, -swinging open the heavy door—“I don’t -care! I ain’t anybody’s nigger!”</p> - -<p>She rushed out tempestuously, dragging -from one or two rings the heavy portière, -which with a native incongruity hung before -the door itself.</p> - -<p>“How vulgarity will crop out!” said Roden, -rising to shut the door. “That poor -little girl has behaved so well until to-day!”</p> - -<p>That evening, as he sat writing in a little -room opening into the dining-room, Virginia -entered, and came and stood beside -him. He did not look up. She had annoyed -him a good deal, and he was not -prepared to yield the forgiveness for which -he felt she had come to plead. She stood -there some moments quite silent, then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -reached over his shoulder and dropped -something on the table before him.</p> - -<p>“You said th’ other day you wanted one -for the silver. There ’tis,” she said. She -turned before he could speak, and left the -room.</p> - -<p>Lifting the crimson mass from the table, -he saw that it was an old-fashioned purse -of netted silk, secured by little steel rings. -He recalled a speech which he had made a -day or two ago concerning the inconvenience -of modern purses as regarded silver -currency. He started up and opened the -door, calling the girl by name two or three -times. No one answered, and he went -down the hall and into Herrick’s room.</p> - -<p>The overseer was there, whittling something -by the light of a smoking kerosene -lamp. Aunt Tishy was there, grumbling -to herself about “folks cuttin’ trash all -over de flo’ fur her ter break her pore ole -back over.” The raccoon was very much -there, as he seemed to be having a fit just<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -as Roden entered. But there was no Virginia. -Her spinning-wheel stood idle in -its corner; her heavy boots were drying in -front of the wood fire; there was a book, -face down, upon the deal table—a book -which she must have been reading, as no -one else at Caryston besides Roden ever -glanced between the covers of one.</p> - -<p>He lifted it, expecting to find some Dora-Thornesque -romance of high life. It was a -condensed copy of “Youatt on the Horse,” -and beneath it was a racing calendar for -’79. Alas! alas! even this discovery told -nothing else to this otherwise discerning -young man. He smiled as he put down -the volumes, thinking that the little Virginian -was bent on making him acknowledge -her a superior horsewoman in all respects.</p> - -<p>He then inquired of Herrick as to the -whereabouts of Virginia. Neither the girl’s -father nor Aunt Tishy could tell him.</p> - -<p>“If you’ll lend me a pencil I’ll just leave -a note for her,” he said, feeling instinctively<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> -that she would not care to have a message -in regard to her little gift left with her father -or the old negress.</p> - -<p>He scribbled a few words on one of the -fly-leaves of the racing calendar, tore it out, -folded it securely, and handed it to Herrick.</p> - -<p>“Please give that to your daughter when -she comes back,” he said. “Good-night,” -and left the room.</p> - -<p>Old Herrick waited until he heard the -distant clang of the dining-room door; then -he settled his spectacles very carefully -upon his large nose, pushed out his underlip, -and unfolding the little note, thrust it -almost into the flame of the lamp while -reading it.</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“‘<span class="smcap">Dear Miss Faginia</span>’ (Humph!),—Many -thanks fur yo’ beeyeutiful purse. -I will alluz keep hit. Very truly yours,</p> - -<p class="right">“‘<span class="smcap">J. Roden</span>.’”</p> - -</div> - -<p>“Humph!” ejaculated Herrick again—“humph!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> - -<p>He set one long, knotty hand back down -against his side, and turned the bit of paper -about scornfully between the thumb and -forefinger of his other hand, regarding it -the while over his spectacles. “Humph!” -he said for the fourth time.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="IV">IV.</h2> - -<p>It was one o’clock on that same night -Virginia Herrick leaned with round bare -arms on the table, above which hung a little -oblong, old-fashioned mirror in a warped -mahogany frame. The one candle on a -little bracket at her right hand, brought out -the clear tones in her face and throat and -arms, and dived vividly into her masses of -loosened hair; beyond her was a background -of vague shadows; she looked from -the tarnished mirror like a painting from -its frame. Her eyes were sombre and -heavy under their dark lids. The light -falling down upon her sent long delicate -shadows trembling upon her cheeks—shadows -such as are made by the bending of -summer grasses across a woman’s white -gown, and which in Virginia’s case were -cast by her thick, curled lashes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> - -<p>She had taken off the waist of her homespun -dress, and the folds of her much-gathered -chemise assumed a silvery tone in the -concentrated light. The contrast between -the dead white of the stuff and the living -white of her neck and arms was as perfect -as when Southern peach-trees, blossoming -before their time, are seen next day against -vast fields of snow.</p> - -<p>One of the Persian cats leaped with soft -agility upon the table, and passed purring -between the girl and her fair image in the -dingy glass; she swept him from her way -with one sure motion of her strong bare -arm, and returned to her intent scrutiny of -her own face.</p> - -<p>The time passed on. A rat began an -intermittent nibbling in the old wainscoting -of the room; sharp, sudden noises were -heard overhead; the fire died out in tinkling -silence; a heavy shroud of semi-transparent -tallow wrapped the one candle. -Two o’clock had sounded through the hollow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -depths of the old house some time ago. -Suddenly she spoke. “I wisht I knew ef -I war pretty,” she said. Then, with passionate -reiterance, “I <em>wisht</em> I knew ef I -war pretty.”</p> - -<p>The cat, hearing her voice, leaped again -beside her, as if to answer; again she swept -him to the floor. The soft, cushioned thud -of his feet against the bare boards sounded -quite distinctly upon the silence, so alert to -catch every noise. “Oh, I wisht—I <em>wisht</em> I -knew ef I war pretty,” she said once more.</p> - -<p>Poor little savage, you are pretty indeed—with -a prettiness which civilization -would give many of its privileges to possess. -So, I doubt not, were fashioned the -wood-nymphs of old, with strength and -with health and with grace beyond all -power of reproduction—even so have they -gazed deep into their woodland lakes; and -the lakes, did they not answer? Who but -Beauty was ever mother of such curves -and tints?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> - -<p>This time she put another question. “I -wisht I knew ef—it—pleased—<em>him</em>.”</p> - -<p>She had yielded up her secret to the old -mirror, and to Hafiz—what better confidants? -The one had no tongue; the other -a tongue used only for lapping unlimited -supplies of Alderney cream.</p> - -<p>With a sudden movement she leaned -forward and blew out the sputtering candle. -She did not wish even her own eyes -in the mirror to pry upon her.</p> - -<p>Three days later Roden and Usurper -figured in a hurdle race of some note in -the neighborhood.</p> - -<p>This Usurper was by King Tom, out of -Uarda, and as rank a brute as ever went -headlong at his hurdle, often taking off -nearly a length too soon. Virginia, who -had seen him day after day at his work, -ventured timidly to suggest to Roden that -one of the lads should ride the horse. He -laughed, and told her he had thought her -above that very ordinary failing of women—nervousness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -She said nothing more, -turning short on her heel with the customary -dissenting movement of her fine -shoulders.</p> - -<p>These races were to be quite a swell affair, -and there were a good many carriages -outside of the course. Miss Erroll and her -mother, sunk deep in an old-fashioned landau, -talked to Roden as he leaned on the -side of the carriage, very brown and gallant -in his racing-togs.</p> - -<p>Virginia was seated on Pokeberry, not -three yards off. She watched curiously -each movement of Miss Erroll, dwelling -with strained, wondering eyes upon her -pretty wrinkled gloves; her close-fitting -corsage of white serge; her little dark-red -velvet toque; her parasol, a vivid arrangement -of cream-color and red, which made a -charming plaque-like background for her -fair face; she also noticed the posy of blue -and white flowers which was pinned on the -left side against the white bodice of Miss Erroll.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -Roden’s colors were blue and white. -Virginia herself had a little knot of white -and blue hyacinths on her riding-habit; -she jerked them out with a savage movement, -tossed them on the ground, and carefully -guided the hoofs of Pokeberry upon -them.</p> - -<p>All unconscious was she that in her eyes, -blue now with anger, and her cheeks so -white with pain, she wore his colors whether -she would or not.</p> - -<p>There were two races before the one in -which he rode. Then he went off to be -weighed, and Virginia dismounted from -Pokeberry, and gave a little nigger a cent -or two to hold the mare.</p> - -<p>She went and leaned against the railing, -waiting for the start. All went well enough -until the finish. Roden came sweeping -down the homestretch in an easy canter, -Usurper well in hand and going game as -a pebble, and one more hurdle to jump.</p> - -<p>Virginia held her breath; she had a horrible<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -certainty that Usurper would refuse -that last hurdle, or do something equally -idiotic. Roden sent him at it in fine form. -There was a second of expectancy, a smart -crash, and then Usurper, scrambling heavily -to his feet, tore off down the course, leaving -a mass of blue and white half under the -débris of the hurdle. The brute had not -risen an inch, and had flung Roden headfirst -into the hurdle, himself turning a complete -somersault.</p> - -<p>On came the other horses, ten of them, -in full gallop. Mary Erroll stood on her -feet, with a little broken cry. Some men, -until now paralyzed with astonishment and -horror, started forward; but swifter than -all, unhesitating, strong of arm as of nerve, -Herrick’s daughter, diving beneath the rail, -rushed out into the middle of the track, and -seizing the senseless man beneath his arms -dragged him by main force out of the way -of the coming horses. The hoof of one of -them, however, struck her on her left shoulder,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -taking a good bit of flesh and cloth -clean away as though with a knife.</p> - -<p>There was a good deal of blood about -Roden’s head—some at first thought that -he was seriously injured. They carried -him into a tent and sent for a surgeon. In -an hour he was all right, however, and -wrote a few words upon some little ivory -tablets, sent him by Miss Erroll for that -purpose, to assure her of his entire recovery. -Mary then sent to ask if Miss Herrick -would not be so very kind as to come -and speak to her. The girl came, sullenly -enough, touching from time to time the -bandages about her left shoulder, as though -restless under even so slight a restraint.</p> - -<p>“I want to thank you so very, very -much,” said Mary, in her sweetest voice. -She leaned far out of the landau and held -out her hand to Virginia.</p> - -<p>“What a’ <em>you</em> thankin’ me fur?” demanded -the girl, fiercely, stepping backward from -the extended hand. “<em>You</em> ain’t got nothin’<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -to thank me fur—have you?” she ended, -with a sudden change from aggressiveness -to appeal infinitely pathetic.</p> - -<p>A swift red had dyed Mary’s face at the -first reception of her kindly meant advances. -It faded out now, leaving her very pale.</p> - -<p>“Every one who is a friend of Mr. Roden -ought to thank you, if they do not,” she -said, with great dignity. “I am sorry I -spoke, since it has been so disagreeable to -you. Good-morning.”</p> - -<p>Virginia was dismissed—she felt it. The -knowledge went scorching through her -veins as kirsch through the veins of one -not accustomed to its fire. She hated the -girl with a mad, barbaric impulse, which -was as much beyond her control as its tides -are beyond the control of the ocean; she -felt an animosity to Miss Erroll’s very hat, -to her pretty parasol with its bunch of red -velvet ribbons on the bamboo handle. She -would have liked to seize and tear them to -pieces, as a humming-bird tears the flower<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -which has refused its honey. A red mist -rose to her eyes. The Erroll carriage and -its occupants seemed to be melting away -and away in a golden haze. She stepped -backward, keeping her eyes on it, as a fascinated -bird looks ever on the serpent that -has charmed it.</p> - -<p>“I hate her—I hate her—I hate her,” -she said, back of her teeth, not fiercely, as -she had at first spoken, but with a dull assertiveness.</p> - -<p>She refused several offers from kindly -neighbors who would have driven her -home. She could ride quite well, she said, -without using her left arm.</p> - -<p>The evening was lowering and purple -towards the north-east, full of vague shadows -and noises of homeward creatures. -The west was aglare as with floating golden -ribbons from some mighty, unseen Maypole -behind the luridly dark mountains.</p> - -<p>The slanting light touched the crests of -the clods in a newly ploughed field to her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -left with a vivid effect, remindful of the -light-capped wavelets on an evening bay. -Farther on it was long, glistening stalks of -fodder which caught the level gleaming -from the west, as might the rifles of a regiment -that has been ordered to fire lying -down. The fresh green hollows of the hills -were full of a palpable golden ether, like -cups of emerald brimmed with the lucent -amber drink of other days.</p> - -<p>A leather-winged bat brushed against -her cheek, flying heavily into some broom-straw -just beyond. She saw nothing, felt -nothing, heard nothing beyond the dark -hours ahead of her, the heavy aching of -her heart, and its loud monotonous beating, -to which she unconsciously set words as -one does to the iterant chatter of a clock.</p> - -<p>“Yes, he loves her—yes, he loves her,” -so it seemed to say, over and over, again -and again. Almost she could have torn it -from her breast and flung it from her, had -not it been sacred to her for the love of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -him with which it was filled. Think of it; -try to imagine it. A woman fully developed, -heart and body full of the South from -bright head to nimble feet, as the South is -full of beauty; free as the birds that cleaved -her native air with strong, untiring wings; -unlearned in all emotion whether of love or -of hate; not weary in sense or perception; -untutored, unknowing, uncivilized—and loving -for the first time in all her one-and-twenty -years of living!</p> - -<p>There was no analysis here, no picking -to pieces of little emotions, no skewering -of butterfly passions to sheets of paper -from the book of former knowledge. No -comparison between then and now—between -now and what might possibly have -been had the bits of glass in the kaleidoscope -of existence assumed a certain difference -of juxtaposition. She loved him. -Why she loved him, how she loved him, -she could no more have told you than she -could have told the names of the different<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -elements which composed the tears with -which her hot eyes brimmed.</p> - -<p>It was seven o’clock of that same evening. -Roden, restless and feverish, flung -from side to side on an old leathern sofa -in the library. There were no candles, but -a great fire of chestnut-wood sought and -found all such points as were capable of -illumination in the sombre old room—the -brass claw feet of the tables and chairs, the -great brass hinges of the rosewood bookcase, -the glass knobs on an old writing-desk -in one corner, Roden’s eyes and hair as he -lay listlessly resigned for a moment or two -staring into the noisy labyrinths of the -flames.</p> - -<p>It was half an hour later. The leaping -flames had settled as in sleep upon a bed -of red-gold coals; a little ever-ascending -spiral of gray-white smoke escaped from -a cleft in the end of one of the half-burned -logs. The old chimney-place was like a -vivid picture set in the dark wall. Its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> -yawning black throat, heavily clogged with -soot, was tinged faintly for some way up -by the glow from the lurid mass on the -hearth. The great iron fire-dogs, at least -four feet in height, were connected from -shaft to shaft by a chain in grotesque suggestion -of the Siamese twins. The much-burnt -bricks had assumed opaline tones, -in rosy grays and greenish-yellows, beneath -the intense heat and light. On the hearth-rug -the collie lay stretched, his ruffled legs -every now and then executing an unavailing -canter, as in his dreams perchance he -chased a soaring buzzard.</p> - -<p>They were all three asleep—the fire, the -collie, Roden. A soft crooning wind, conducive -to slumber, sighed at the doors and -windows, vibrating every once in a while -with sonorous minor cadences.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the incessant monotone was -snapped, as it were, to silence. The door -leading into the library had been opened; -some one entered cautiously, stood still;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> -then the door was again closed noiselessly.</p> - -<p>The person who had entered crept forward -a pace or two. It was Virginia. -She had not yet taken off her riding-habit, -and the bandages were yet about her shoulder. -Some dark stains here and there told -where the blood had soaked through. As -she came forward, nearer to the rich lambency -of the fire, her white face borrowed -some of its roseate flush, but the lines of -pain, mental and physical, were traced as -with a fine chisel about the sombre mouth -and eyes. Stealing past the foot of the -sofa on which Roden lay, she stood a moment -looking at him. Her crossed wrists -pressed each other hard against her bosom, -her long fingers drawing the stuff of her -habit in wrinkles with the tenseness of -their grasp upon it. Her breast rose and -fell, impatient, eager, behind the close prison -of her arms, as some woodland thing so -held might seek to be free. All at once<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -she sank down to her knees upon the -hearth-rug, lifting both hands to her bent -face, and rocking herself to and fro with -wild, swaying movements of her supple -body. The collie raised his head with a -drowsy curiosity, and let it fall heavily -again upon the floor. The varying monody -of the wind had begun again through -the chinks in the closed door.</p> - -<p>At last she lifted her head, letting her -clasped hands fall loosely into her lap. A -sudden flame showed her with an added -vividness the face of Roden as he lay in -tired unconsciousness upon the old lounge. -She moved nearer to him, still on her -knees; then again lifting her hands to her -bosom, leaned forward and gazed upon -him as though one should drink with the -eyes. Her great braids, ruffled and half -unplaited, followed the lithe curves of her -back with glittering undulations, as of two -mated golden serpents. So passed some -moments.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p> - -<p>Presently, as though uneasy, even in the -far-off Land of Nod, beneath those moveless, -hungry, beautiful eyes, the young man -stirred, and muttered something in his -sleep. Swift and noiseless as a cat she -leaped backward into the folded shadows; -but he did not wake. Once more she -came forward. With a stealthy movement -she drew out a little pair of scissors from -the bosom of her dress; then bending over, -lifted, with the touch of a butterfly upon -a flower, one of Roden’s much-tossed curls. -There was the sharp hiss of steel through -hair, and the soft brown semicircle lay in -the girl’s palm. She lifted it to her lips -with the gesture of one who, half starved, -suddenly finds bread within his grasp; -then turning, she stole out again, even as -she had entered.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="V">V.</h2> - -<p>Roden was not able to leave the house -for many days. During this time Virginia -waited upon him, sang to him, brought -into service her every power of amusement.</p> - -<p>She coaxed her perverse “mammy” to -teach her new darky songs by reading endless -chapters in the Bible. All her spare -time was spent in setting them to appropriate -accompaniments. She would sit and -recount absurd anecdotes to him by the -hour in her slow, sweet monotone, as unsuggestive -of anything humorous as can -well be imagined. Sometimes she fetched -her spinning-wheel and spun as she talked. -He felt vexed with himself that he could -not sketch her as she sat plying the dull -blue thread with her nimble fingers. Her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -homespun dress dropped naturally into -those broad, generous folds beloved of -sculptors. She had a clear, placid profile, -which always found shadows sufficiently -willing to serve as background for its pale -beauty. Her head was noble in its contours, -and as graceful in its startled, listening -movements as that of a stag. Roden -did make several attempts to fix her upon -paper, but ended always with a contemptuous -exclamation and a hurried, clever drawing -of a steeple-chase, or Bonnibel, or some -other equally horsy subject.</p> - -<p>One day he happened to mention that as -a lad he had played tolerably well on the -violin. Virginia rose at once, saying that -she thought there was one in the attic.</p> - -<p>She took a candle, and went up the little -corkscrew staircase that led into the roof -of the house—a dark, dusty, cavernous -place, smelling of mould and old books. -There were many hair-covered trunks studded -with brass nails, heaps of old saddles<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> -and harness, fire-dogs, brass and iron, a disused -loom.</p> - -<p>The corners of the room were veiled in -a thick and rustling obscurity, suggestive -of parchment and rats. Onions and red -peppers adorned the ceiling.</p> - -<p>Virginia set down the candle on one of -the moth-eaten trunks, and lifted the lid of -a second.</p> - -<p>A fine cloud of little white particles flew -out into her face, as impalpable, as easy of -escape, as impossible to recapture, as the -contents of Pandora’s box. The girl thrust -in her long brown arm, and drew out a -bunch of white ostrich feathers.</p> - -<p>They were shedding their delicate moth-nibbled -filaments like snow upon her dark -gown and the bare floor of the attic. She -drew them caressingly through her fingers -as though in pity; it seemed to her sad -that things so charming should have so -common a fate. She then stooped, and -after a little searching drew out the violin.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> - -<p>She was about to shut down the lid of -the trunk when something caught her eye—a -bunch of cherry-colored ribbon, which -burst from beneath a mass of moth-eaten -gray fur, like a sudden flame from covering -ashes.</p> - -<p>She reached down and pulled it out; -but lo! it was not only a knot of ribbons; -something more followed—a sleeve of heavy -antique silk, stiffly brocaded in red and gold -flowers on a cream-hued ground. Then -came more ribbons, a mass of fine lace, a -scarlet petticoat. The girl put down the -violin, held up this relic of the Old Dominion, -and shook it out somewhat contemptuously. -A little parcel fell from the musty -skirt—a pair of slippers with high red heels -and little red rosettes. As she looked, a -sudden change came over the girl’s face, a -sudden flash of resolve, a quick suffusion -of bright color. She seized the little shoes, -bundled them again into the dress, and -drew her own homespun skirt over the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -whole. Then, tucking the violin under her -arm and lifting the candle, she ran at a perilously -hurried pace down the contorted -stair-way and into her own room.</p> - -<p>She closed and locked the door, laid the -dress and violin on the bed, and still standing -up, pulled and tugged at one of her -heavy shoes until it came off in her hand, -discovering one of her shapely feet in its -blue yarn stocking. But, alas! Virginia -present could not get her foot into the -slipper of Virginia past. She sat down on -the edge of the bed in mortified vanquishment, -and turned the pretty, absurd thing -about in her strong hand. Then once more -she tried to put it on. She found that by -squeezing her toes into the toe of the slipper -she could manage to walk, as there was -no restraint at the back of the foot. She -then lifted and put on the dress. It would -not meet by several inches about her splendid -young bosom, and the waist gaped at -her derisively from the little mahogany-framed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -mirror. She was, however, determined. -She hid these defects as best she -might, by snipping away bunches of the -cherry-colored ribbon here and there, and -pinning them in reckless profusion above -the gap in the bodice. My lady of the -time of George the Third must have been -shorter than this damsel of the first year of -President Cleveland’s administration. The -stiff, flowered skirts stopped short at least -three inches above her instep. Virginia -had fortunately very commendable ankles, -and peeping thus from the mass of mould-stained -red and yellow frillings, they looked -as sleek and trim as the neck of a bluebird -peeping from autumnal foliage.</p> - -<p>She tilted the little glass forward by -means of one of her discarded shoes thrust -behind it, and darted a shamefaced glance -at her transformed self. Bravo! bravo! -Miss Herrick! You are worthy of that -famous name. So hath Abbey oft drawn -Julia, plenteous in her shining skirts and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -tresses, beribboned, beautiful. Ah! what -eyes! what lips! what an exquisite expression, -half of self-conceit, half of timid uncertainty! -What a throat for a dove to envy, -supporting the face kissed brown by the -sun, like an orchid whose stem is fairer -than its flower! Snood up that banner of -golden hair, my good Virginia; twist it -about with the string of little shells you -yourself gathered last summer; make yourself -as lovely as possible, my little fawn, -for the sacrifice. The gods have demanded -it from time immemorial—a band of fair -maidens every year to appease the Minotaur -Despair. Good-by, Virginia; good-by; -good-by. Never again will that dim green -glass reflect such looks from you. Do not -forget the violin. Was it not for him that -you went to fetch it? Is it not for him -that you have forced your strong young -body into the curveless dress of 1761? Is -it not all for him? And even unto the -end will it not be for him?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> - -<p>Roden, conscious only of her presence -by the unusual rustling of her skirts, looked -up questioningly. When he saw her, who -she was, he started to his feet, his lips parting -in an expression of utter amaze. It -was as though one of the bepowdered Caryston -dames had stepped from her massive -gilt frame in the hall without and confronted -him. He could say nothing but her -name, in varied tones of astonishment, inquiry, -and approval.</p> - -<p>She stood before him on her high heels -as uncertain as a child learning to walk, -smoothing out the much-creased folds of -her gay attire with restless, nervous fingers, -the stringless violin in her other hand. -“I—I—I look a awful fool—don’t I?” she -said, laughing not very merrily. “I—feel -’s ’f I’d sorter got roots to my feet in these -shoes.” She thrust out one foot, in its incongruity -of yarn stocking and Louis Quinze -slipper, tilted it to one side, and regarded it -in apparent absorption.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> - -<p>Roden was only thinking what a charming -picture she made tricked out in all this -red and gold of other days. She stood -there before him like a beautiful present, -clad in the garments of a past as beautiful. -He felt a strange sensation of having -stepped back into the time of Henry Esmond -and the Virginians. He glanced -down at his wrists, half expecting to see -lace ruffles spring to adorn them, under the -magic of the hour.</p> - -<p>“You pretty child!” he said at last, -“what on earth made you think of getting -yourself up in this style?” But he knew -that she was more than pretty. He would -have liked to tell her so, only he was always -very careful what he said to this little -Virginian; and florid compliments, though -perfectly adapted to the period of her costume, -would smack of the familiar when considered -under the lights of the nineteenth -century.</p> - -<p>He wondered at the radiance in her suddenly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -lifted face. How could he know that -at last the so often asked question nearest -to her heart was answered, and answered -by him? He thought her pretty!</p> - -<p>“I brought you the violin,” she said, turning -away with an effort. “I reckon I’d -better go ’n’ take off these things. They -cert’n’y do look foolish—don’t they?”</p> - -<p>“No, don’t,” said Roden. “You ought to -humor an invalid, you know. You are so -awfully nice to look at in that queer old -gown.”</p> - -<p>Dimples that he had never before seen, -just born of joy, stole in and out about -the corners of the girl’s red lips. She was -more even than beautiful; she was enchanting. -How ever had she come by all those -old-time airs and movements? Had she -perchance imbibed the spirit of the past -with the air of the old house where she had -always lived? Did some of those old <i lang="fr">grandes -dames</i> lean from the walls at night to teach -her that subtle, upward carriage of the head?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> - -<p>He forgot all about the violin, and stood -looking at her in wondering absorption.</p> - -<p>“I—I’ve got a new song for you,” she -said, presently, in a low voice. She seated -herself sidewise at the piano, as though diffident -of the furbelows that composed the -back of her novel attire, striking at the same -time noiseless chords with her left hand.</p> - -<p>“You said you liked Scotch songs. I -found this one in a old book that b’longed -to my mother. She was Scotch. Mus’ I -sing it?”</p> - -<p>“Please do,” said Roden.</p> - -<p>Thus encouraged, she sang to him in the -following words:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“I hae a curl, a bricht brown curl,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">A bonny, bonny curl o’ hair,</div> -<div class="verse">An’ close to my heart it nestles warm,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">But its brithers dinna ken it’s there.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“I stole my curl, my silk-saft curl,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">My bonny, bonny curl o’ hair,</div> -<div class="verse">An’ a’ the nicht it sleeps upon my heart,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">But its master doesna ken it’s there.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“O bricht, bricht curl! O luvely, luvely curl!</div> -<div class="verse indent1">O curl o’ my bonny, bonny dear!</div> -<div class="verse">I wad that again ye waur shinin’ on his head,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">But I wad that his head waur here!”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Now although Roden had often before -heard her sing, he was conscious of a sound -in her voice to-night which was utterly new -to him—a sound so marvellous, so altogether -exquisite, so melting sweet, that he was -almost afraid the beating of his heart would -prevent some of its beauty from reaching -him. There was in it a divine fulness -which he had never before heard in a human -voice. It was like the sea on summer -nights. It was like the distant wind in -many leaves. It was like the eternal complaint -of the voices of the fields on April -noons. It filled him with a sense of peace -and unrest at the same time. It thrilled -him and possessed him utterly. Blind that -he was, however, no faintest inkling of what -had produced this divine result came to his -mind. He was touched, but touched only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> -as he would have been by any other voice -as perfect.</p> - -<p>“My dear little girl,” he said, bending -over and kissing her smooth brow with one -of his rash impulses, “we must see what -can be done with that voice. I am thinking -that you will add to the honor of your -name some day, Miss Herrick.”</p> - -<p>She started to her feet. It was as though -her very heart’s blood had risen to meet his -lips. A delicate, vivid rose-color dyed all -her brow and temples. “How do you -mean?—how do you mean?” she said, in a -rough, shaken whisper, holding both hands -against her heart as though afraid it would -leap from her body.</p> - -<p>“Never mind what I mean just now,” -he said, with the smile of a wiseacre; “and, -Virginia, since you have sung that song so -charmingly, I am sure that you will be glad -for me about something which I am going -to tell you.”</p> - -<p>Glad? Was she not always glad for anything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> -which gave him joy? Had she not -read her eyes almost sightless, night after -night, in mastering that strange horse lore -which would enable her to help him in his -enterprises? She came nearer, in bright -expectancy; lifted her face to meet his -looks and words.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she said; “please tell me. I know -I’ll be glad—I cert’n’y will.”</p> - -<p>“I am engaged to be married,” he told -her. “I am engaged to be married to Miss -Mary Erroll, and—I want you to be the -first to congratulate me, Virginia.”</p> - -<p>He could recall nothing afterwards but -the swift withdrawing of her hands from -his. He could not even remember how -she had left the room. She seemed to -vanish as though in reality she had been -but a wraith summoned up by fancy from -days long fled.</p> - -<p>But Virginia? Ah, Virginia! Out, out, -out into the night she sped on supple, unshod -feet. She had torn off those queer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -little parodies of shoes at the hall door, and -held them now mechanically to her breast -as she ran.</p> - -<p>The air, redolent with peach-blossoms -and hyacinths just born, rushed to meet -her from the dark jaws of the east, as -though some leviathan should breathe with -a sweet breath upon the night May earth. -There was no moon in the lustrous blue-gray -of the heavens, but the stars seemed -trying to atone for her absence by their -multitudinous shining.</p> - -<p>As Virginia dashed on past a clump of -box-bushes, her skirts brushing the stiff -leaves set them rattling, and woke the nested -birds to querulous complaints. Her -feet were wet with the night grasses, and -bruised with the pebbles of the carriage-drive. -She reached the lawn gate, opened -it, and rushed through. On, on, across a -field of grass, close-cropped by the not fastidious -sheep, who, warmly folded on a -neighboring hill-side, still nibbled drowsily<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> -between their slumbers such luscious -blades as were within their reach.</p> - -<p>She came at last to a little enclosure set -about with evergreens and almost knee-deep -in withered grass. Her eyes, grown -accustomed to the wan light, could make -out two little hillocks, as it were, formed -within by heaped-up earth, and clasped by -the tangled herbage. Underneath their -sometime verdant rises slept the first twain -who in Virginia bore the name of Caryston. -Side by side, so had they lain, in death together -as in life they had been. Virginia -knew well this their self-chosen resting-place. -Here on summer afternoons would -she come to knit. Here she always brought -the first spring flowers, and here she had -always placed boughs of white and purple -lilacs every day while they lasted. She -had dreamed and wondered and enjoyed -here, and here she came to suffer, as from -some subtle instinct a man turns to his -childhood’s home to die.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> - -<p>Just outside the wicket gate the daffodils -were all in plenteous blossom, as though -day, for once relenting, had dropped an -armful of gold into the lap of night. On -a locust-tree near by a mocking-bird trilled -and warbled. She cast herself face down -upon one of the graves, clasping it about -with her bare arms, as one clasps a proven -friend in time of trouble. She had spoken -no word as yet. She suffered as keenly, as -dumbly, as any creature, wild or tame, to -whom there is no soul. But all at once a -cry broke from her, then over and over -again, “O my God! O my God! O my -God!”</p> - -<p>The sobbing piteousness of this desolate -prayer as it tore its way from the depths of -her wild heart—who shall write of it? Not -I—not I—even if I could. She was a savage; -she suffered like a savage. Will any -say there was no justice in it? It is something, -is it not, to be capable of passion -such as that? She suffered beyond most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> -people, men and women, it is true; but was -she not in that much blessed above them?</p> - -<p>She lay there until the dawn looked -whitely above the eastern hills upon the -waking earth. In her quaint old dress one -might have thought her the tortured ghost -of the woman who had so long slept in -peace below the grass-hidden mound. She -staggered, when at last she rose to her feet, -and fell for a moment upon her knees. -There was a sense of vagueness that possessed -her. She did not seem to care now, -somehow. She wondered if they would be -married at the little church in the neighborhood, -and if they would let her come. She -thought <em>he</em> would. She thought that she -would not mind much seeing it. Of course -they would live here. She would see them -together every day. Well, what of that? -She was surprised in a dull way that it did -not affect her more. Then she remembered -that she had not made any bread for -him, such as he liked, the night before.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -Well, it was a pity; but it was too late; it -wouldn’t have time to rise now. She must -think of something else. Morning came -on apace, clad all in translucent beryl-colored -robes, and brow-bound with gold and -with scarlet.</p> - -<p>The birds were waking and chattering, -as women chatter over their morning toilets. -Some more hyacinths had bloomed -in the night, and there was a great clump -of iris, that she had not noticed the day -before, on the hill-top. A cardinal-bird, -sweeping downward like a flame fallen -from some celestial fire, made his morning -bath in the hollow of a tulip-tree leaf—a -relic of vanished winter filled by kindly -spring with fragrant rain.</p> - -<p>As she neared the lawn gate she saw -some one leaning over it. A swart, red-kerchiefed -figure, clad in a dress whose -stripes of blue and white circled her large -body as its hoops a barrel. It was Aunt -Tishy. She pushed upon the gate, jamming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -her stout proportions uncomfortably -in her haste to reach the girl.</p> - -<p>“Gord! Miss Faginia, whar <em>is</em> you ben? -An’ gret day in de mawnin! what dat you -got on, anyhow? Gord! Gord! ef de chile -ain’ jes ez wet ’s ’f she’d ben caught in de -Red Sea wid Phario. Honey, whar <em>is</em> you -ben, in the name o’ Gord? Tell yo’ mammy. -Is you been see a harnt? What de -matter wid my baby? Gord! Gord! dem -eyes sutney <em>is</em> ben look on suppn dradeful. -Po’ lamb! po’ lamb! Look at dem -little foots, an’ de stockin’s all war offen -’em same as de rats dun neaw ’em. Ain’ -yo’ gwine tell yo’ mammy, my lady-bug? -Come ’long so. Mammy kin ’mos’ kyar -yo’ ter de house.”</p> - -<p>Virginia submitted listlessly to the old -black’s blandishments. She was not sorry -to have Aunt Tishy’s massive arm about -her. Her feet ached and smarted; there -was a sharp pain in her side when she -drew her breath, and that dreadful feeling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> -of being a thing just born, a creature who -had no past, still held her in its numbing -grasp.</p> - -<p>Aunt Tishy took her into the big kitchen—an -out-house consisting of one room, -and a fireplace in which one might have -roasted a whole ox. It was lined on two -sides with great smoke-darkened pine -presses. The other walls and the ceiling -had once been white, but were now stained -the color of a half-seasoned meerschaum -pipe. The two windows had casements -with diamond-shaped panes of dingy glass -set in lead. Enormous deal tables stood -here and there. From the surrounding -gloom came the glimmer of brightly polished -tin, as brilliant in its effect as the -glint of a negro’s teeth from the dusk of -his face.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> - -<div id="illus5" class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<img src="images/i_144.jpg" width="400" height="530" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">“I GWINE TAKE DAT DAR OUTLANDISH THING OFFEN YO’, HONEY.”</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p> - -<p>Aunt Tishy, having seated her nursling -in an old wooden rocking-chair, dragged a -basket of chips and shavings from the capacious -ingle-nook, and set about making the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -fire. She first scooped away the yet warm -ashes of yesterday with her shapely yellow-palmed -hands. Negroes generally have -well-formed hands and remarkably pretty -finger-nails. Then she began laying a little -foundation of shavings and lightwood splinters; -here and there she stuck a broad -locust-chip. When these preparations -were all completed she went out to “fotch -a light,” she said, assuring Virginia of her -speedy return.</p> - -<p>In a few moments she was back, carrying -a handful of live coals in her naked palm, -having first sprinkled a few ashes over it -for protection. With these she kindled -the fire, which soon made a busy clamor in -the hollow throat of the old chimney.</p> - -<p>Once more she disappeared, returning -with a bundle of things in her arms: a big -shawl, Virginia’s shoes and stockings, and -her homespun dress.</p> - -<p>“I gwine take dat dar outlandish thing -offen yo’, honey,” she announced, seating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -herself on the pine floor in front of -the girl, and beginning to draw off her -torn stockings. “I gwine mek yo’ put -on yo’ own frawk ’fo’ dey sees yo’ in d’ -house. Marse Gawge he ain’ knowin’ nuttin’ -’bout yo’ bein’ out all night. I ’mos’ -skeered to deaf ’bout yo’, but I ain’ seh -nuttin’ to <em>naw</em>body, ’case I didn’t think my -honey gwine g’way fur good.” She took -the little cold bare feet into her cushiony -palms and rubbed them softly. Every now -and then she bent down her gayly turbaned -head and blew with warm breath upon -them after the negro fashion of ministering -to any frozen thing, from a bit of bread to -a young “squawb.”</p> - -<p>“Yo’ barf’s all rade-y in de house,” Aunt -Tishy continued, as she knelt up and began -unfastening the ribbons from the front of -the old-time garment the girl had donned -in a mood so different.</p> - -<p>“Gord! honey,” she said, as the pins accumulated -in her capacious mouth, “in de<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> -name o’ sense what dun persess yo’ tuh put -on dis hyah thing? Name o’ Gord! <em>who</em> -ever see sich a thing <em>aney</em>how?” She held -it up with much of the contempt with which -Virginia had at first regarded it, tossing it -finally into the chip-basket.</p> - -<p>Virginia said nothing from first to last. -She was almost sure that she was dreaming, -and would soon awake.</p> - -<p>“My sakes ’live!” chuckled Aunt Tishy, -as she hooked the homespun dress about -the girl’s waist, “wouldn’ I ’a’ thanked Gord-amighty -ef yo’d ’a’ ben dis good when yo’ -wuz leetle, honey? Mk, mh-<em>mph</em>!”</p> - -<p>(This final ejaculation I find impossible -to describe with pen and ink.)</p> - -<p>When she had completely altered her -charge’s appearance, replaiting her dishevelled -hair, and unwinding from its tangled -meshes the little chain of white and red -sea-shells, Aunt Tishy took her by the hand -and led her across the side lawn to the -house.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Now yo’ kin dress comfbul,” she told -her, “an’ jess mek’ yo’se’f easy, my lamb. -Tishy she ain’ gwine seh nuttin’ tuh <em>naw</em>-bode-y.”</p> - -<p>Virginia tried to smile upon her. Something -stiff at the corners of her mouth -seemed to prevent her. She turned, lifting -one hand to her cheek, and went into the -yet quiet house.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="VI">VI.</h2> - -<p>Roden wondered a good deal during -such moments as his thoughts reverted -not to his ladylove, concerning Virginia’s -recent neglect of him. Popocatepetl was -his attendant now at meals, dried his newspapers, -and gambolled for his amusement. -Virginia had come to him on the afternoon -of the day following that upon which he -had announced to her his engagement, and -had said she “didn’ know what took her -las’ night. She cert’n’y was glad he was -so happy. He mus’ please scuse her ’f she’d -ben unperlite. She cert’n’y was glad.” But -Roden missed her very much. Besides, he -wished exceedingly to hear her sing again. -He wanted to be quite sure that he had not -deluded himself in regard to the possibilities -contained in her sonorous voice.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> - -<p>Virginia continued to be very economical -of her presence, however, and three days -afterwards he was summoned to New York -by telegraph to attend the bedside of an -ailing thorough-bred.</p> - -<p>Virginia did not come to tell him good-by. -He thought it strange at the moment, -but did not have time to ponder over it -subsequently. She, in the mean time, kneeling -behind the “slats” of her bedroom window-blinds, -watched the little Canadian fishing-wagon -as it drove away, with Popocatepetl -proudly installed on the back seat. -She held something crushed against her -breast—an old Trinity College boating-cap -which belonged to Roden. She knelt there -for full a half-hour after the last grinding of -the cart-wheels on the carriage-drive. No -tears rose to soothe the burning in her eyes. -She had not wept since that night spent by -those lonely graves. At last she rose and -went over beside the fire. The day was -unusually raw for the season of the year.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> - -<p>Rebellious robins chattered on the eaves. -A fitful wind swept rudely over the fields. -Virginia, with unseeing eyes on the low-smouldering -fire, caressed the bit of blue -cloth in her hands with absent, slow-moving -fingers. Anon she lifted and examined -it closely. It seemed to her that the lion -on the coat of arms might have been better -done. She remembered an old print of -Daniel in the lions’ den which was in the -big family Bible. Therein the king of beasts -was, she thought, far more ably depicted. -This lion had an inane expression, owing -probably to the two black dots which stood -for his fierce eyes, a paucity of mane, and a -superfluity of tail which struck her as undignified. -Suddenly she burst out laughing. -Peal after peal of the merry, staccato -sound rang through the winding passageways -above, and echoed down into the lower -halls; ripple upon ripple of wild merriment; -a rush, an abandonment of jollity, -in which she had not indulged for many a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> -day. She tried in vain to stop. She could -not. That little oblong lion with his much-curled -tail was too much for her. Ha! ha! -Oh, how funny—how funny it was! and -how she enjoyed a good laugh! And was -it not far, far better to laugh than to cry? -Oh, that funny, funny, funny little beast! -How merry he made her, how jolly, how -care-free, once more!</p> - -<p>A voice rang out suddenly, calling her -name: “Faginia! O-o-o-o Faginia! O-o-o-o -Faginia!”</p> - -<p>Startled into sudden gravity, she slipped -the cap into the breast of her brown stuff -gown, and went to the door.</p> - -<p>“That you, father?”</p> - -<p>“Yase, ’tis. What ’n th’ name o’ goodness -’r’ you hyahhyahin’ ’bout up thar all by -yo’self? Howsomdever, the beauty of the -question air, thar’s a young lady down here -as wants ter see you, an’ I’d never ’a’ knowed -yo’ was in the house ef yo’ hadn’ been goin’ -on like a wil’-cat with the stomach-ache.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Who is it?” said Virginia.</p> - -<p>Back came the name in strident unmistakable -syllables, “Miss—Ma-ry—Er-roll.”</p> - -<p>There was a second’s pause.</p> - -<p>“I’ll be down in a minute,” Virginia -called back.</p> - -<p>Miss Mary Erroll was walking up and -down the “front hall” in her Quorn-cloth -habit, whistling softly to herself. Her short -riding-skirt needed no holding up to enable -her to move comfortably, and her hands -were clasped behind her about her hunting-crop.</p> - -<p>Virginia, coming slowly down the many -convolutions of the broad stair-way, noticed -the dark sheen of the thick braid folded -away under the smart little hat, the glimpse -of fair cheek and throat, the thorough-bred -lines of the slight figure.</p> - -<p>“Mornin’,” she said, briefly.</p> - -<p>Miss Erroll stopped in the midst of an -intricate aria, unbent her red lips, and held -out her hand in its loose dog-skin glove:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -evidently she intended to ignore the unpleasantness -of their last interview.</p> - -<p>“I came to Caryston for two reasons,” she -announced, cheerily. “First, to give your -father a message which Mr. Roden left with -me. Secondly, to bring you something, -Miss Virginia. I believe you like dogs?”</p> - -<p>“Some dawgs,” said Virginia, speaking -in a dull, even tone.</p> - -<p>Miss Erroll, nothing daunted, led the way -to the library; she pulled off the wrappings -from about a wicker basket, and lifted out -a sturdy mastiff pup, who, supported across -the palm of his whilom mistress’s fair hand, -made ungainly motions with his great paws, -as though trying to swim.</p> - -<p>“Won’t you take him, Miss Virginia? -We have so many dogs at home, it would -be a real kindness.”</p> - -<p>“Most likely my father ’d like to have -him,” said Virginia. “I don’t have much -time ter ’tend ter dawgs. I’m much obliged -ter you, though.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> - -<p>Miss Erroll, thus rebuffed, set down the -little mastiff on the floor, and pushed it -with the toe of her riding-boot. One of the -characteristics of this young woman was an -insatiate desire for the good-will of every -one. It was weak, no doubt; but, as the -celebrated saying hath it, the weakness was -very strong. Somehow it made Mary uncomfortable -to think that the overseer’s -daughter, humble though her position was, -should not succumb to the charm which she -chose to exert for her benefit.</p> - -<p>The unconscious little peace-offering in -the mean time was making abortive efforts -to peer into every object out of his reach -which the room contained.</p> - -<p>A sudden revulsion of feeling came over -Virginia, a sense of unnecessary rudeness, -and of the uselessness of it all.</p> - -<p>“I—I’ll take him, thank you,” she said, -stooping and lifting the puppy into her capable -young embrace. “I’m mighty glad to -have him. He cert’n’y is pretty.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> - -<p>Poor Virginia! She felt the baldness -of these phrases without knowing how to -remedy them. “He cert’n’y is cunnin’,” -she added.</p> - -<p>Mary was much relieved. “I thought -you would like him,” she said. “I have -named him ‘Mumbo,’ after one of his ancestors. -If you don’t like the name, please -be sure to change it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I like it!” said Virginia. “I couldn’t -give him a better one to save my life. I -kyarn’t never scarsely think o’ names fur -the critters on th’ farm. Does he know it -yet?”</p> - -<p>“Oh no!” Miss Erroll assured her.—“You’ll -have to teach him that.”</p> - -<p>She looked down intently at one of her -gloves, and began to unbutton it. “I suppose -you have heard of my engagement?” -she said, without looking up.</p> - -<p>Yes, Virginia had heard of it. She said -so in an even monotone which had in it -no suggestions either of approval or disapproval.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -She was astonished to feel Miss -Erroll’s hand on her arm.</p> - -<p>“Miss Virginia,” said that young lady, -with a sweet and whole-souled blush, “I’m -going to ask you to do me a tremendous -favor. I—I would like so much to see -Jack’s—Mr. Roden’s room just as he left -it, don’t you know—with his boots and -coats and whips lying about. I don’t want -your father or any of the servants to know, -because they would think me crazy; but I’m -sure you’ll understand.”</p> - -<p>Virginia led the way without a word. -The mastiff pup made playfully affectionate -dabs at her round chin with his rose-leaf -tongue. Roden’s bedroom was on the -ground-floor. He did not occupy the majestically -gloomy apartment in which his -first night at Caryston had been spent. -This room was in the east wing of the -house, plentifully perforated with small casements, -and panelled from floor to ceiling. -This panelling had all been painted white,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -and the result of the heavy coatings, renewed -from time to time, was a rich, ivory-like -smoothness of tint and tone. A little -single iron bedstead stood in one corner -of the room, between two windows. There -were some capital old sporting prints upon -the walls, numberless hunting-crops and riding-canes -stacked on the high mantle, spurs, -gloves, tobacco-bags, cartridges, and what not -heaped pell-mell on tables and chairs, about -twenty pairs of boots and shoes ranged -along one side of the room, some on and -some not on trees. Garments of divers -kind were pitched recklessly about. It is -perhaps needless to say, after the foregoing -description, that confusion reigned supreme.</p> - -<p>Miss Erroll, at first shyly conscious of -Virginia’s presence, soon began to move -about after her usual airy fashion. She -lifted the brier-wood pipe, so often smoked -in Virginia’s presence, and pressed her lips -playfully to its glossy bowl.</p> - -<p>“Aren’t women geese, Miss Virginia,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> -when they care for any one?” she said, -turning to laugh at the girl over her graceful -shoulder.</p> - -<p>She was entirely at her ease now, and -went about from object to object, touching -some and merely looking at others, with a -little conscious air of possession which was -like the turning of a rusty knife in the girl’s -heart. She tossed an old shooting-coat -from the bed’s foot to a chair, remarking, -as she did so, “What careless creatures the -best of men are! I shall have to give Master -Jack a lesson in the old proverb concerning -places and things—when—when I -am Mrs. Jack!” she ended, merrily.</p> - -<p>Turning over some things on a table -near one of the windows she came across -an old-fashioned netted purse of red silk, -with steel rings and tassels—the purse Virginia -had netted for him during such odd -moments as she could steal from her many -occupations. She watched Miss Erroll now -with hungry eyes, the eyes of a wounded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> -lioness who watches, helpless, the taking -away of one of her cubs. Her heart beat -against her homespun bodice with short, -quick throbs. She stooped and set the -struggling puppy upon the floor. It seemed -to her as though she had been holding fire -in her arms.</p> - -<p>“Oh, this is so pretty!” said unconscious -Mary. “This is so very quaint and pretty! -I must have it. Of course he’d give it me. -I’m just going to take it without saying by -your leave;” and with that she slipped it in -the pocket of her habit.</p> - -<p>Virginia shut her eyes for a moment, -dizzy with pain and anger; but the red -light which seemed to surround and envelop -her when she did so made her fainter -than ever. She lifted her dark lids and -stared out at the blank strip of sky above -the box-bushes outside the window, vacantly, -unseeingly.</p> - -<p>She had no distinct recollection of the -remainder of Miss Erroll’s visit. That one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -fact concerning the taking away of the purse -which Roden had promised to keep always -alone remained distinctly in her mind. She -had tried honestly to overcome the all-powerful, -unreasoning dislike of Miss Mary -Erroll, and the result had been worse than -if it had not been tried. The discordant, -insistent yapping of the mastiff pup irritated -her almost beyond endurance. He seemed -bent on intruding upon her his regret for -the departure of his former mistress.</p> - -<p>As she went wearily into her father’s -work-room, and sat down to her spinning-wheel, -she heard his voice at the window -calling her.</p> - -<p>“Well?” she said, listlessly.</p> - -<p>“’Pears to me,” said he, jocosely, “as having -rained, it air cert’n’y pourin’. Heah’s -Joe Scott come ter bring yo’ them jorhnny-jump-ups -he sez as he promised yo’.”</p> - -<p>She got violently to her feet, upsetting -the wheel and tearing her skirt against a -projecting nail as she hastened to the window.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> -“Tell him I’m sick,” she said. “Tell -him I’m in bade. I ain’t a-goin’ ter see -him; that’s flat. If needs be, tell him so.”</p> - -<p>But Mr. Joseph Scott had already entered -the room. He was a person of sinuous, -snake-like presence, and seemed capable of -shedding his complete attire by means of one -deft wriggle. His neck rose from a turn-down -celluloid collar, after the fashion of -the neck of “Alice in Wonderland,” after -she had partaken of the cake which caused -her to exclaim, “Curiouser, and curiouser!” -His long locks, of a vague, smoky tint, exuded -an unsavory smell of (I am ashamed to -say) rancid pomatum. He wore a threadbare -summer overcoat, though in his case the -“over” was a decided misnomer, as there -was nothing under it but an unbleached -cotton shirt, and a sporting vest which had -evidently belonged to some Briton. His -necktie would have put an October forest -to the blush. His mud-colored trousers -were pulled down outside of his great cowhide<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> -boots, which presented their very apparent -tops in a ridgy circle beneath the -stuff of his trousers.</p> - -<p>A strangling sense of loathing and revolt -rose in Virginia’s throat. She felt as -though she would indeed suffocate beneath -that terrible combination of smell and vulgarity. -She leaned far out of the window, -and spoke to him without turning her head.</p> - -<p>“Mornin’,” she said, curtly. “P’r’aps you -heard me tell father I was sick.”</p> - -<p>“Lor’! air you?” said Mr. Scott. “I -cert’n’y am sawry. Here’s them jorhnny-jump-ups -I hearn you seh ez how you -wanted.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” said Virginia, in a stifled -voice. She still leaned out of the window, -and the conversation flagged.</p> - -<p>“Larse night,” suddenly announced Mr. -Scott, with spasmodic assertiveness, “Larse -night a peeg-horg came down th’ mounting -and gneawed all pa’s corn orf.”</p> - -<p>“He must ’a’ had a mighty leetle crop,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> -said Virginia from without the window. -Her voice came back into the room softened -by the purring air without.</p> - -<p>“I’m tawkin’ ’bout gyarden corn,” said -Mr. Scott, failing to appreciate the sarcasm.</p> - -<p>Again a silence. The mastiff pup, diverted -by the arrival of the new-comer, went -sniffing about his redolent person.</p> - -<p>“Ef he was a fox,” thought Virginia, -dryly, “’twouldn’t take no houn’s ter foller -his scent. I could track him a week arter-wards -myself.” Out aloud she said, “Air -them roots or flowers you brought me?”</p> - -<p>“Both,” said Mr. Scott.</p> - -<p>Another pause.</p> - -<p>“The tarryfied fever’s a-ragin’ up ter -Annesville,” he announced, presently.</p> - -<p>Virginia faced about for the first time. -“Is it?” she asked. “Who’s down?”</p> - -<p>“Nigh all o’ them Davises. The doctor -says as how it’s ’count o’ their makin’ fertilizer -in their cellar.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> - -<div id="illus6" class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<img src="images/i_166.jpg" width="400" height="400" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">“HE MUST ’A’ HAD A MIGHTY LEETLE CROP.”</p> -</div> - -<p>“What?” said Virginia.</p> - -<p>He repeated his assertion.</p> - -<p>“Ef that’s true,” she said, slowly, “I ain’ -goin’ to bother my head ’bout ’em; such -fools oughter die.”</p> - -<p>(Be that as it may, she “bothered” herself -enough to tramp on foot all the way to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -Annesville, some eight miles, that very -afternoon, and offer her services as sick-nurse. -The house fortunately was under -quarantine, and there was assistance enough.)</p> - -<p>“But that ain’ nothin’ ter th’ skyarlet-fever -over the mounting,” Mr. Scott pursued, -in a tone whose threadbare lugubriousness -revealed the morbid satisfaction -which lined it. “That’s fyar howlin’; an’ -they sez, moresomeover, ez how it can be -kyard an’ took from a little bit o’ rag.”</p> - -<p>Old Herrick, who had come again to the -window, was listening intently. “’S that -so?” he said, finally. “Well, consequently -were, the beauty of that question air, thar -ain’ much rag trade goin’ on between that -side o’ th’ mounting an’ t’other. Hyeah! -hyeah!”</p> - -<p>“How can you laugh, father?” said the -girl.</p> - -<p>“Godamighty, gyrl! I ain’ laufin’ at the -folks as is got the fever, but at them as -ain’t.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> - -<p>“They says as how it kin be kep’ in a -piece o’ ribbon or sich fur over twenty -year,” pursued Mr. Scott, who, apparently -not content with his own fragrance, continued -from time to time to bury his long nose -in the bunch of johnny-jump-ups which he -still held.</p> - -<p>“’S that so?” said old Herrick again. “I -tell yo’ what, darter, ’f that thar’s true, yo’d -better have them things ez th’ las’ Englisher’s -wife lef up in th’ attic burned up.”</p> - -<p>“Why?” said Mr. Scott, before Virginia -could reply.</p> - -<p>“’Case thar baby died o’ th’ red fever, -and thar’s some o’ its belonging up thar -inter a cradle—some little odds an’ eens ez -they furgot ter take away with ’em in their -trouble.”</p> - -<p>“Yo’d cert’n’y better burn ’em,” said Mr. -Scott, with knowing gloom. “I’d as soon -sleep with a bar’l o’ gunpowder over my -hade.”</p> - -<p>“Well, seems to me ef there’s danger<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> -’n either, ’twouldn’t be in th’ gunpowder,” -said Miss Herrick, dryly, “seein’ as it don’ -never blow down, an’ yo’d be onder it.”</p> - -<p>“G’long, Miss Faginia!” exclaimed her -not-to-be-rebuffed admirer. “Yo’d have yo’ -joke ’bout a dyin’ minister!”</p> - -<p>He left a half-hour afterwards, all unconscious -of the seeds of disaster which he -had sown, and the next day Roden returned -from New York in excellent spirits. -On the following Tuesday he went into the -kitchen and had a private conference with -Aunt Tishy, which resulted in his leaving -it with pockets considerably lightened, and -shoulders laden with the thanks and -praise of its proprietress. He also confided -in Virginia, and asked her assistance. -He wished to give his bride-elect and her -mother a little dinner—wouldn’t Virginia -help him? She was so very clever about -such things. He knew if she would only -help him that everything would be perfectly -satisfactory. She promised, and he went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -off on Bonnibel to Windemere entirely content.</p> - -<p>Miss Erroll drove her mother over to -Caryston in a village-cart, and, as luck -would have it, a sudden shower caught -them about a quarter of a mile from the -house. Mary, however, got the brunt of -the shower, as she was driving, and had at -once wrapped her mother in all available -rugs and wraps.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Erroll stepped out upon the front -porch at Caryston with the ruffle at her -throat, and a little damp, and the plumes -in her bonnet somewhat limp; but Mary’s -dress of white wool was soaked through -and through, and her hat a sodden mass of -white lace and straw.</p> - -<p>Roden relapsed at once into the agonies -of alarm in which newly engaged men are -apt to indulge when the health of their -<i lang="fr">fiancées</i> is called into question. He went -again to Virginia, and overwhelmed her -with instruction and entreaties. Miss Erroll<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -was conducted to a bedroom bright -with blue chintz and many wax-candles, -and Virginia, having provided her with -some of her own clothes, went off to dry -the soaked garments. That, however, Roden -would not hear of. It was too far to -Windemere to send back for dry garments. -Then Virginia must lend Miss Erroll one -of her dresses.</p> - -<p>Virginia had three dresses besides the -one she wore. She brought them all in -and laid them on the bed. Miss Mary, -who had an artistic eye, chose a gown of -garnet wool with plain round waist and -short skirt. When she had turned it in a -little at the throat, and fastened a bit of -cambric, which Virginia brought her, kerchiefwise -about her neck, she looked like a -charming Cinderella who had resumed her -humble attire to please her Prince. Mary’s -throat, however, could not stand the severe -test of laceless exposure. It was too slender -and long. Where Virginia’s massive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -column of cream-hued flesh rose from the -clasp of such a kerchief with infinite suggestions -of mythical forests and Amazonian -warriors, Miss Erroll announced that she -looked “scraggy.” She took up the bit of -black velvet with its buckle of Scotch pebbles -which she had worn about her throat -when she arrived. But the wet stuff left -dark stains on her fingers, and had assumed -a cottony, lack-lustre hue. “If only I had -a bit of velvet to go about my throat!” -she said, regretfully. “I can’t go down -this way—I’m so indecently thin!” She -laughed a little and sat down as in despair.</p> - -<p>A sudden thought leaped hot in Virginia’s -breast. A bit of velvet? She had -no velvet of any kind, but she knew where -a piece was. A bit of dark-blue velvet ribbon, -just such a bit as Miss Erroll wanted. -True, it had been used to loop a baby’s -sleeve, but around that slender throat it -would reach most amply.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I—kin—get—you a piece,” she heard -herself saying.</p> - -<p>Her voice sounded strange and disembodied -to herself, as though it did not issue -from her own lips. She thought that she -to whom she spoke must start up with -horror for the change. But no, she only -smiled blandly, sweetly, with that faint -suggestion of patronage which was as perceptible, -though not as palatable, as the -dash of bitter in orange marmalade.</p> - -<p>“Thank you so much!” she said. “I -shall quite suit myself then.”</p> - -<p>Virginia took a candle and went up into -the attic, as ten days ago she had gone. -The damp, dusty smell brought back to -her that terrible memory as only a perfume -can recall the past.</p> - -<p>Her veins throbbed ever hotter and -fiercer. Her time was come. Revenge -was in her hands. What fever could be -more virulent, more deadly, than the fever -that dark-haired girl had set raging in her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> -veins? What was the verse that she had -read only last night to Aunt Tishy out -of what the old negress called “de Holy -Wud?” An eye for an eye, a tooth for a -tooth. Joe Scott was not the only person -she had ever heard speak of such a thing. -It had simply served to recall it to her -mind. Ha! ha! She had never liked Joe -Scott before, and she had been very rude -about those johnny-jump-ups. Poor Joe! -She would thank him the very best she -knew how when next she saw him. Poor -Joe! good Joe! dear Joe! Yes, there it -was, the pretty bassinet cradle, with its -faded blue and pink ribbons. That little -English baby had died full four years ago. -She walked towards it, shielding the candle -with one scooped hand from the playful assaults -of the night wind. The cradle stood -just in front of an old hair-covered chest. -As she neared it, a consciousness of eyes -regarding her came upon her. Ah! there -they were. A rat, paralyzed for the moment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> -by the sudden light, had paused on -the edge of the old chest, and fixed her -with his little, protruding, evil-looking eyes. -She made a spasmodic, terrified movement -with her hand, and he leaped down, his -sleek, tight-skinned body striking the floor -with a repulsive sound as of unsavorily nurtured -corpulence. The girl turned with a -strong, uncontrollable fit of shivering towards -the cradle. It was rocking slowly -back and forth in the uncertain light, its -pink and blue ribbons fluttering with a -ghostly and ill-timed gayety. A cry almost -broke from between her gripped lips, but -she remembered suddenly that the rat must -have set it in motion when he leaped from -the top of the chest. Setting the candle on -the floor beside her, she stooped over and -began lifting out the little sheets and blankets -and bundles of linen and silk. One of -those sudden noises which disturb sleep at -night in an old house jarred through the -room. She stuffed the things hastily back<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> -and looked behind her. Nothing there. But -as her glance went round the room she saw -before her, black, assertive, monstrous, the -likeness of a huge cradle, cast by the candle -against the whitewashed wall of the garret. -Her heart beat with laboring, heavy -thuds. If it were not quite so black, she -thought, or if it had only been more the -size of the real cradle; but its vast presence -in the low-roofed room seemed like -the presence of some presiding fate. She -tore away her look from it by sheer force of -will, found what she wanted, caught up the -candle, and rushed headlong from the room.</p> - -<p>Miss Erroll received her with the same -sweet smile. “You were pretty long,” she -said. “I’m afraid I’ve given you a lot of -trouble.”</p> - -<p>“No, none,” said Virginia. She cleared -her throat and repeated the words. They -were indistinct at first, because of the dryness -of her tongue and the roof of her -mouth. She watched with hot, moveless<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -eyes the slim fingers of Miss Erroll as she -first crimped the curling bit of velvet between -her fingers, with a deft, almost imperceptible -movement, and forced the teeth -of her little buckle through it.</p> - -<p>“How damp it smells!” she said, as she -lifted it to her throat to put it on; “just as -if it had been stuffed away in some old attic.”</p> - -<p>Virginia’s knees smote together. She -put out her hand to steady herself, and -sank heavily into a chair.</p> - -<p>“’Taint nuthin’—’tain’t nuthin’,” she said, -roughly, as Mary ran to her side. “I’m better -jess so. Don’ tech me, please. An’ please -ter scuse me. I kyarn’ bear no one to tech -me when—when I’m like this.”</p> - -<p>Alas! alas! Virginia, when were you -ever “like this” before, in the whole course -of your seventeen years of strength and -health and placid, if bovine, contentment?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The dinner, thanks to Virginia, was a -success. Roden’s wines were excellent.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> -They were going to ask Virginia to sing -for them. Roden said he thought it would -please her so much. After dinner Mrs. -Erroll sat down to the piano, and the sweethearts -wandered off into the “greenhouse,” -leaving open the door between the rooms. -A rhomboid of pale yellow light from the -candles on the dinner-table fell into the narrow, -flower-crowded corridor, touching the -great geranium-leaves into a soft distinctness, -and showing here and there the flame-colored -and snow-white glomes of blossom.</p> - -<p>Roden, out of sight of Mrs. Erroll, had -straightway put an arm about the supple -waist of his betrothed, and one of her hands -had found its way to his short curls with a -movement as of long habit. As the slanting -light from the room beyond caught the -sheen of her delicate throat above its velvet -ribbon, he bent his head and pressed down -his lips upon it and upon the bit of velvet.</p> - -<p>Virginia, by some strange coincidence -or freak of fate, was at this moment crossing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> -the lawn to put the mastiff pup into -his kennel. Attracted by the unusual -light in the greenhouse, she looked up. -Looking up, she saw Roden as he stooped -and kissed his sweetheart’s throat. She -gave a fierce broken cry, like an angered -beast, and turning, ran with all her might -into the house.</p> - -<p>Poor Mrs. Erroll, summoning up musical -ghosts from her maidenhood’s <i lang="fr">répertoire</i> -on the old piano, thought that one of Roden’s -horses had gone mad and galloped -through the room.</p> - -<p>In the mean time Virginia, panting, wordless, -seized Mary with one strong hand, and -with the other tore off the velvet from -about her neck. “I—I—I’ve read as how -it was pizen; I jess remembered. Here’s -yo’ buckle.”</p> - -<p>She rushed madly out again, and flinging -herself upon the bare floor of her little -bedroom, beat the hard boards with her -hand and dragged at her loosened hair.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="VII">VII.</h2> - -<p>There is One who hath said that to -Him belongeth vengeance. When His -creatures take into their incapable grasp -the javelins of His wrath it is generally -with as impotent and baleful a result as -when young Phaëton, seeking to guide -the chariot of the sun, brought to himself -despair, and scorched to cinders the unoffending -earth. Thus was it with Virginia. -With the nearness of her unbridled -love and anger she had forever seamed -as if with fire the fair world of her content. -It seemed to her that space itself would -be too narrow to hold her apart from such -women as were good and true.</p> - -<p>Just God! could it be that her sin was -to be visited upon the being whom of all -the world she loved best, because of whom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> -that sin had been committed? Was Roden -going to suffer, perhaps to die, in the -stead of the woman she had sought to -slay? He was not often at Caryston now; -most of his days were spent with his betrothed. -He did not notice the change -which was stealing over Herrick’s daughter. -He had no time to wonder that she -did not sing now at her spinning as once -she had sung. He would not have paused -to listen to her had she done so.</p> - -<p>He was called away again to the North -on the last of May, and on the day after -his departure Aunt Tishy burst into Virginia’s -room with flour-covered hands. -“Gord! Gord! honey,” she said, tossing -her blue-checked apron up and down with -wild, savage gestures of dismay and grief, -“what yuh think?—Marse Jack’s sweetheart’s -dun got de rade fever, an’ dey don’ -think as how she’ll live.”</p> - -<p>Virginia stood and stared at her with -eyes which saw nothing. Her face took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> -on a ghastly greenish pallor. About her -brow and mouth there stole a cold moisture. -She opened her lips, and seemed to -speak. Her lips framed the same words -stupidly over and over again.</p> - -<p>“Gord! honey,” cried the old negress, -seizing her, as she swayed backward as if -about to fall, “is yuh gwine be sick yuhsef?”</p> - -<p>Virginia pushed her away, walked steadily -over to an old oak cupboard, took out -a jug of whiskey, and drank from its green -glass throat as she had seen men do. The -stinging liquid filled her veins with a hot, -false strength. She spoke quickly now, -in a harsh tone, seizing the old nurse by -the shoulders, and thrusting her white face, -with its lambent, distended eyes, close to -that of the terrified Aunt Tishy.</p> - -<p>“When was she took? Who tol’ yuh? -Are yuh lyin’? Ef yuh’re lyin’ I’ll curse -yuh with such curses yuh won’ be able -to be still when yuh’re dead. But yuh<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> -wouldn’ lie tuh me, would yuh, mammy? -You wouldn’ lie to me to send me tuh -hell in th’ spirit ’fo’ I was called there fur -good. Yuh hear me? Why didn’ yuh -tell me befo’? Who’s with her? Who’s -nursin’ her? Put up my clo’es. I’m goin’—I’m -goin’ right now. God! Air yuh -a-tryin’ to hold me? Ha! ha! That’s -good—that cert’n’y is good. I’ll make -father larf at that when—when I come -back. Why, you pore old thing, I could -throw you outer that winder ef I tried. -Well, don’t cry. What a’ you cryin’ fur? -God! God! God! have mercy on me!”</p> - -<p>She fell upon her knees, wringing her -hands and throwing backward her agonized -face, as though with her uplooking, straining -eyes she would pierce the very floor of -heaven and behold that mercy for which -she pleaded. Then she leaped again to her -feet. All at once a calmness fell upon her. -She resumed the old dull listlessness of some -days past as though it had been a garment.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I’m goin’ to Mis’ Erroll’s,” she said, -quietly. “I wan’ some clo’es. Send ’em; -I ain’t er-goin’ tuh wait. Tell father.”</p> - -<p>Virginia, arrived at Windemere, went -down the basement steps into the kitchen. -The cook, a young mulatto woman named -Lorinda, came forward to meet her on cautious, -brown-yarn toes.</p> - -<p>“Miss Mary’s a-dyin’,” she announced, -in a sepulchral whisper. “De doctor seh -ez how she kyarn’ live nohow. She’s jess -ez rade ez a tomarker fum hade tuh foots. -An’ she’s jess pintly ’stracted. Yuh never -heah sich screechin’ an’ tuh-doin’ in all yuh -life.”</p> - -<p>“Kin I see Mis’ Erroll?” Virginia said, -shortly. She sat down on an upturned -half-barrel near the door, and leaned with -her forehead in her locked palms. Lorinda, -rebuffed but obliging, went to see. Virginia -was not surprised when she returned -shortly, followed by Mrs. Erroll herself. -Her heart would never quicken its beat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> -again for anything this side of torment, -she thought. Poor, erring, repentant, suffering -little savage, what are you enduring -now if it be not torment?</p> - -<p>Mrs. Erroll, nervous and hysterical, took -the girl’s hands in hers, and scarcely knowing -what she did, bent forward and kissed -her cheek. Virginia started back with a -harsh cry, which was born and died in her -throat.</p> - -<p>“Poor child!” Mrs. Erroll said, humbly. -“I beg your pardon. But if you feared contagion -you ought not to have come here.”</p> - -<p>“’Tain’t that—’tain’t that,” said Virginia. -“Don’ min’ me; I’m queer like sometimes. -I didn’ mean nuthin’. Ev’ybordy in this -neighborhood ’ll tell yo’ I’m a good nurse. -I’ve come to he’p yo’. I’ve come to take -kyar of her. I’ve come to <em>make</em> her live!”</p> - -<p>She lifted one arm with a gesture of -command almost threatening. The next -moment it dropped heavily to her side. -The old dull look crept like a shadow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -over the momentary animation of her face. -“They’ll tell yo’ I’m a good nurse,” she -said, in her slow monotone.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Erroll was only too thankful for the -proffered services. She had no assistance -from the whites in the neighborhood; indeed, -all of the neighboring families had -left for the Virginia Springs.</p> - -<p>Virginia, after removing her shoes, went -at once to the sick-room. As her eyes fell -upon the flushed face on the pillow it was -as if every drop of blood in her body turned -first to fire and then to ice.</p> - -<p>She stood with her hands against her -breast and looked down at her own work. -The beautiful dark tresses, formerly so -smoothly braided about the small head, -now ever turning from side to side as -though in search of rest which it found -not, were tangled and matted until no -trace of their former lustre remained; the -red lips, ever moving, gave forth wild, incoherent -cries and mutterings.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> - -<p>About the slender throat coiled the -wraith of a dark-blue velvet ribbon.</p> - -<p>“Take it off, take it off,” whispered Virginia. -“She kyarn’ git well while that’s -there—she kyarn’.” Reason came back to -her with a sudden rush, and she knew that -only her mind’s eye saw the velvet ribbon.</p> - -<p>She then took her place by the bedside, -from which she did not move to eat or -sleep for twelve days and nights. They -brought her bouillon and made her drink -it under penalty of being turned from the -room. For twelve times four-and-twenty -hours she listened to those senseless ravings. -She was mistaken in turn by the -sick girl for her mother, for some of her -school-room friends, for Roden. Mary -would sometimes put up both narrow, fever-wasted -hands to her little throat, and -cry out that she was choking—that Virginia -had brought her a band of fire and -locked it about her throat. By what strange<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -coincidence such a fancy should have possessed -her who shall say?</p> - -<p>Thus they went together, those two, -through the Valley of the Shadow—the -all but murdered, the almost murderess—and -she who had sought to slay brought -back to life.</p> - -<p>Roden, detained by some business complication -in New York, heard nothing of his -sweetheart’s illness until telegraphed for on -the day of the crisis. It was just the balance -of a mote in sunshine between life -and death. Life brought the mote that -won. They told him he must thank Virginia. -They had all thanked her, and -blessed her, with thanks and blessings -which burned her guilty soul with twice -the fire of red-hot maledictions. That they -should bless her whom God had cursed! -Ah, God, she prayed not! She would but -know if God himself wept not because of -the sad mockery.</p> - -<p>A wild thought came to her with healing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> -in its wings, as when a blade of grass -forces its way between the stones in a -prisoner’s cell. She had read of atonement: might -she not atone?</p> - -<p>Perhaps God would let her buy forgiveness -with her life. Why had she not taken -the fever; or was this fever now which -rioted through her veins? She was walking -homeward with her shoes slung across -her shoulders. The grass felt cool and -damp against her bare feet. Would it not -wither where she trod? She looked backward -over her shoulder with a laugh. It -seemed to her that her footprints would be -set as with fire across that lush June field.</p> - -<p>Then came a curse upon her eyes. For -her the earth lost all its summer green; -the heavens above her bent not bluely -down to meet the blue horizon. The birds -ceased singing, and echoed her mirthless -laugh; all nature took it up—a monstrous -harmony of jovial sounds. At what were -they making merry, these creatures large<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> -and small—the crickets, the wild birds, the -many voices of field and forest, of air and -water?</p> - -<p>Was it at her they laughed? Did they -jeer at her because she had lost her soul? -Ah, for the cool green to look upon! Ah, -that its blue would return to the lurid -heavens! The curse of blood was upon -her. Because of it she looked on all things -as through a scarlet veil. Red was the -vault above her; red the far-reaching line -of well-loved hills; red, red, the whirling -earth.</p> - -<p>Virginia did not die. A week after her -recovery she sent and asked if Roden would -come to her father’s room; she wished to -speak with him.</p> - -<p>He went most willingly, having never -felt as though he had sufficiently thanked -her for what she had done for one who was -to him as the life in his veins.</p> - -<p>As he entered the room, in spite of all -his self-control he could not restrain a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> -slight start. Was this Virginia Herrick?—this -snow maiden with eyes of fire, and -tangled hair that seemed to flame about -her white face as though it would consume -it?—this fragile, wasted, piteous memory of -a woman? She was as poor a likeness of -her former self as a sketch in white chalk -would be of one of Fortuny’s sunlit glares -of canvas.</p> - -<p>He came and stood beside her, wordless, -and then put one of his strong brown hands -kindly on her hair.</p> - -<p>“Wait,” she said, drawing herself away -from him—“wait.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, Miss Virginia,” he said, in his -breezy, gentle voice, “we will soon have -you out of this. You won’t know yourself -in two weeks.”</p> - -<p>“Wait,” she said, her great eyes burning -into his.</p> - -<p>“My poor little girl,” he said, almost with -tenderness, “I am afraid you have over-estimated -your strength. You had better<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> -let me go now. I will come to-morrow -whenever you send for me.”</p> - -<p>“Wait,” she said a fourth time, in that -strange, still voice.</p> - -<p>He had a horrified doubt in regard to -her reason as he took the chair to which -she pointed and sat down facing her.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said, with an assumption of -gayety which he was far from feeling, -“what is it? Am I to be scolded for anything?”</p> - -<p>“Do you believe in torment?” said the -girl. She kept her hollow, stirless eyes on -his. There was an absence of movement -about her almost oppressive. She seemed -not even to breathe.</p> - -<p>“My dear child,” said Roden, nervously, -“do choose a more cheerful subject. Really, -you know, it isn’t good for you to be -morbid now. Let’s talk of something jolly -and pleasant. Don’t you want to hear how -the mokes are coming along? And Bonnibel, -poor old girl! I’m afraid her feelings<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> -will be awfully hurt when I tell her you -didn’t ask after her.”</p> - -<p>“I s’pose ev’ybordy bleeves in torment -that has felt it,” said the girl. She had not -moved in anywise. Her deep, still eyes -yet rested on his face. She seemed drinking -his looks with hers. “I’ve sorter come -ter think as hell’s in th’ hearts o’ people,” -she went on. “There ain’t no flames ez -kin burn like them in people’s hearts.”</p> - -<p>Roden jumped to his feet, and went over -beside her. “Virginia,” he said, kindly but -firmly, “I’m not going to let you talk like -this. Good Heaven! those country quacks -know as little about medicine as I do; not -as much, by Jove! for I’d not have let you -leave your bed for a month yet. Come, -dear, let me persuade you. Go back to -bed. I’ll come and see you to-morrow in -your room, if your father’ll let me. You -must, Virginia!”</p> - -<p>“It ain’t no worse, do you reckon,” she -went on, dully, “tuh be in hell than tuh have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -hell in you? I’ve thought er heap ’bout it. -I’ve most answered it, but I’d rather—”</p> - -<p>“Hush! hush!” said Roden, imperatively. -He thought her delirious, and started to the -door to call her nurse.</p> - -<p>“Wait!” rang out her voice, with all its -old, clear strength. She had risen to her -feet. She was there before him. The light -from the window behind her struck through -her hair, so that she seemed standing between -rows of living flame. “I want tuh -tell you,” she said. “I didn’t use tuh think -I was a coward, but I am—I am!” She -beat the palms of her hands together, and -tossed back her head as though seeking to -be rid of the superflux of agony which tore -her. “I kyarn’ bear to say it tuh yo’; I -kyarn’ bear to hear yo’ curse me, ez I have -so often hearn yo’ in my dreams. I kyarn’ -bear—O God!—I kyarn’ bear fur yo’ tuh -know me ez I am. O God! O God! this’ll -wipe it out, won’t it? This’ll buy me -peace?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Virginia! Virginia!” said Roden, beside -himself. He tried to force her again into -her chair.</p> - -<p>“Ah! don’t touch me!” she cried out—“don’t -yuh touch me, tuh hate me worse -than ever when yuh know—Listen—listen -hard, ’cause yuh ain’t a-goin’ to bleeve -me when first yuh hear. Yuh come here tuh -thank me fur savin’ her life. Listen: ’twas -me ez tried to kill her—’twas me! me! me!” -The last word broke from her with a wild -sob, almost vindictive in its urgent violence. -She seemed like one who scourges mercilessly -his own flesh for its sins against his -soul. “I done it—I done it. I tried ter -kill her. Listen! You’ve hearn o’ fever -bein’ cyar’d in bits o’ ribbon—in leetle bits o’ -velvet ribbon—one, two, ten, twenty years? -There was a leetle baby died here onc’t. It -died o’ th’ fever <em>she</em> liked tuh ’a’ died of. I -give her that piece o’ velvet to w’ar roun’ -her pretty throat. I went up intuh th’ attic, -an’ hunted an’ hunted till I found it in th’<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> -baby’s cradle. I give it to her. I tried to -kill her. O my God! Do yo’ want tuh -touch me—now?”</p> - -<p>He stood and stared on her like one -dazed by a sudden blow, though not quite -stunned.</p> - -<p>“You are crazy,” he said, thickly. “Poor -Virginia, you are crazy.”</p> - -<p>“O God!” she wailed. “I wisht I wuz—I -wisht I wuz! Oh, ef I wuz only like them -dumb beasts in th’ stables out thar! Ef I -wuz only Bonnibel, then—then—then yuh -wouldn’ hate me; an’ ef yuh did, I wouldn’ -know.”</p> - -<p>“You are raving,” he said again.</p> - -<p>“Ask her—ask her, if yo’ don’ bleeve me. -Ask her ’f Faginia Herrick didn’ bring her -a leetle bit o’ blue velvet to w’ar round her -throat the night she got wet in th’ rain. -She said then it smelt damp like it had -been in a attic. Ask her—ask her.”</p> - -<p>“God in heaven!” said Roden, between -his teeth, “can you be telling me the truth?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> - -<p>“<em>He</em> knows I am!—<em>He</em> knows I am!” she -said, wildly.</p> - -<p>Roden turned from her, resting his hand -on the back of the chair in which he had -sat when he first entered the room. His -head drooped. The double horror seemed -like a palpable thing at his side.</p> - -<p>“D’ yo’ bleeve me?” she said, with panting -eagerness.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said. She would not have recognized -his voice had he spoken in the dark.</p> - -<p>She waited a few moments, motionless, -frozen, as it were, with suspense and dread. -Then she leaned forward, and holding fast -her bosom with her crossed arms in the -gesture usual with her, fixed her dilating -eyes upon him. Was it possible, could it -be true, that after all he could not curse -her? Nay, dear God! was he even going -to forgive her?</p> - -<p>“Say something,” she said, in a bated -voice—“say somethin’. Jess so you don’ -curse me, say somethin’.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> - -<p>Still he spoke not. She fell upon her -knees and laid her head upon his feet. -“O my God! my God!” she sobbed, “air -yuh goin’ tuh furgive me?”</p> - -<p>Then he spoke to her. “Forgive you?” -he repeated—“forgive you?” He laughed -a short, rough laugh. “By G—!” he said, -turning away from her, so that her forehead -rested on the bare floor instead of on -his feet, “it’s all I can do not to curse you!”</p> - -<p>When she rose again to her knees she -was alone in the darkening room.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="VIII">VIII.</h2> - -<p>Roden did not return to Caryston that -night, nor the next day, nor the day after -that. A boy was sent from Windemere -to bring over some of his boxes. On Monday -of the next week he went with the Errolls -to Old Point Comfort, where Mary -had been ordered to stop during her convalescence.</p> - -<p>As much as he despised Virginia for her -confession, that pathetic, joyous cry of hers -as she thought him about to forgive her -would sometimes ring in his ears; her -deep, still, pleading look, as of some dumb -beast, for mercy haunted him at times. -He could feel her forehead on his feet, -and the eager grasp of her hands upon -them. It was not pleasant, all this; for -while it annoyed and even pained him, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> -could not say honestly to himself that he -felt any disposition to forgive her. Forgiveness -is no doubt divine. Roden was -quite sure that it was an attribute which, -like happiness, belonged solely to the gods. -As for himself, he was distinctly, vehemently, -entirely human. He did not forgive—almost -he did not wish to feel forgiveness. -What! forgive a creature who -had sought to murder his manhood’s one -love? Verily he would be no better than -herself did he so much as dream of pardon. -Between her and her God must rest that -question. He would none of it. And -yet why did that earnest, wistful voice, so -thrilling with a timid exultation, come -ever to his mental ears: “O my God! -my God! air you goin’ ter furgive me?” -Pshaw! what balderdash! He had not -cursed her. Let her comfort herself with -that. He did not know many other men -who would have been as forbearing. And -yet again—those hands about his feet, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> -huddled form prone before him in humblest -entreaty! It made him irritable at -times. He was conscious of having acted -with perfect justness, and yet he felt that -his justness had not been tempered with -overmuch mercy.</p> - -<p>In the mean time Virginia lived on, if -one can be said to live whose heart is dead -within her. She did not dare to pray for -death; she did not dare to hope for peace; -she feared to die, poor ignorant child, because -of the roaring flame which waited -to devour her. She feared even more to -live, because of the fire with which she -was already consumed. She never moved -save to go to bed and get up again. Sometimes -she would sit all day out-of-doors -under the great horse-chestnuts, already -shrivelling in the June sunlight. Nothing -roused her; nothing moved her in -anywise. Poor old Herrick would recount -to her his drollest stories, ending -with a vociferous “Hyeah! hyeah!” in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> -hopes of eliciting some answering mirth -from her. But when he had reached the -most excruciatingly funny climax, and -paused to hear her laugh, she would turn -on him her vague, gentle eyes, and say, -“What’s that, father?” or sometimes, “Were -you a-talkin’ ter me, father dear?”</p> - -<p>The old man went heavily about his -work. He was like some willing beast too -late in life called upon to support a heavy -burden. He was disgusted and angry to -feel the big tears on his cheeks.</p> - -<p>“The beauty of the question air,” he -quoth, angrily, to himself one day, “I ain’t -wuth th’ victuals I eat. I’m a pore ole -fool ez oughter be a-suckin’ ov a sugar -rag, ’stead o’ tendin’ ter er beeg place like -this; but, Godamighty! ef that thar gyrl -don’ git a heap peerter ’fo’ long, I’m gwine -plumb crazy. My sakes! who’d ’a’ ever -thought Faginia would a-set all day like -that a-studyin’ her own han’s like they wuz -the book o’ Gord! Howsomdever, ’tain’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -many ez studies th’ book o’ Gord ez faithful -ez my pore leetle gyrl studies them -han’s o’ hern. Somethin’ cert’n’y <em>is</em> out o’ -kelter with that thar chile. Godamighty! -ef Faginia wuz ter die—”</p> - -<p>He stopped blankly in the midst of the -cornfield through which he was walking, -and thrusting his hands deep in his brown -jeans trousers-pockets, looked up appealingly -at the hot blue sky.</p> - -<p>That same evening he was summoned -as juryman to Charlottesville, a village -some fifteen miles from Caryston, and as -he kissed Virginia good-by his heart rose -in his throat. The face she lifted to his -was so wan, so patient, so like the face of -her young mother just ere she died, twenty-one -years ago.</p> - -<p>“Leetle gyrl—leetle gyrl,” said the old -man, brokenly, “ef you don’ want tuh hurry -yo’ father tuh his grave, yo’ll hurry en -take them purty leetle foots out o’ yourn. -Darter, honey, try ’n’ git some o’ them ole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> -red roses in them white cheeks. Please, -Faginia, honey, I’m ’mos’ worrited to death -’long o’ you.”</p> - -<p>“Pore father!” she said, stroking his face—“pore -father!” that was all. Her listless -hand fell again into her lap. Her eyes fixed -themselves with their vague, uncomprehending -look upon the far blue distance. She -was as much apart from him as though she -were already dead. He rose to his feet, -strangling a sob in his brave old throat, -that he might not distress her, and rode -manfully away to his unpleasant duty.</p> - -<p>That night a dreadful thing occurred at -Caryston. The “mill stable,” as it was -generally called, from being built on a hill -just above the mill-pond, caught on fire. -There were four of Roden’s most valuable -horses in it, together with Bonnibel, who -had been moved from the house stables -while they were undergoing alteration.</p> - -<p>Virginia was sitting silent by her bedroom -window when the first copper glare<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> -began to tinge the dense upward column of -black smoke. She knew in a minute what -it was, although Aunt Tishy muttered something -about “bresh” fires.</p> - -<p>She leaped to her feet, her heart once -more renewing its old-time measure. “Mammy!” -she called—“Mammy! that’s th’ mill -stable! th’ mill stable’s on fire! O God -above! Th’ pore horses—an’ Bonnibel! -O pore Mr. Jack—pore Mr. Jack! Ef Bonnibel’s -hurt, it’ll break his heart.” She had -forgotten everything in her thought for him. -Her own sin, his harsh words—all that had -passed between them since first he gave -Bonnibel into her glad keeping.</p> - -<p>“Here!” she called, tossing on her clothes -with nervous, eager fingers, “han’ me my -shoes—quick!—Lord God!—ef only I ken -git thar in time!”</p> - -<p>She was down-stairs and out of the house -almost before the old negress knew what -she was about to undertake. Out at a side -gate she dashed, and down a grassy hill at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> -the back of the house. Some catalpa-tree -roots caught at her flying feet with their -knotty fingers as though, fiend-like, they -would hinder her on her errand of mercy. -On, on; her breath came quick and laboring. -She was on the open road now, straining -with all her might up a steep, stone-roughed -hill. All the northern heavens -were ablaze with an angry orange. As she -gained the top of the hill a little fan of lilac -flames burst from the stable roof against -the night. There was yet time—Bonnibel -was in a loose-box near the door. O God, -the other horses! Must they roast alive—the -beautiful, agile creatures that he so -loved?</p> - -<p>Below, in the placid breast of the large -pond, the lurid mass above was reflected -with an effect as incongruous as when -some world-tossed soul pours out its hot -confession into the calm keeping of a saintly -heart.</p> - -<p>The shallow stream shoaled into fire<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> -among the black stems of the water-reeds, -and tossed the flames upon its mimic waves. -She gained the rough bridge which spanned -it; her feet passed with a swift, hollow -sound across it. She was there—at the -stable, and her breath had not yet given -out. Then all at once she remembered. -Oh, joy! joy! If she saved Bonnibel, and -was herself hurt to death, would not that -be atonement? Might he not forgive her -then? Poor little savage child—poor, -sweet, uncivilized, true heart! I think indeed -he would forgive you if he knew.</p> - -<p>There were men running frantically -about—omnipresent—useless: they had -delayed so long to set about extinguishing -the fire that it was now beyond all bounds. -The wild, dull trampling of the hoofs of -the terrified horses made horror in the air. -They whinnied and nickered like children -pleading for help. One of the English -grooms was dashing into the smoke and -heat. Virginia seized him by the arm.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I’m coming with you,” she said; “let -me keep hold of your coat.”</p> - -<p>Alas! alas! the maddened, silly brutes -refused to follow. They reared madly -whenever approached, and struck with their -fore-feet at the plucky little lad. In no way -could he approach them; threats and cajolery -were in vain. Virginia snatched a -whip from the stable wall and tried to beat -them out. Usurper, vicious to the last, -rushed furiously at her, and but for the -lad’s striking him over the head with a -pitchfork, would inevitably have dashed her -brains out with his wicked hoofs. There -was no further time to be lost. One side -of the roof was blazing ominously, and the -wall on the eastern side began to tremble.</p> - -<p>Virginia, in spite of entreaties and hands -held out to stop her, turned her skirts about -her head and went into Bonnibel’s box. -“Six of us ’ave tried to get ’er out, miss,” -said the panting lad, who had followed her. -“Don’t you venture in, for God’s sake, miss;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> -she’s that mad she’ll kill you—th’ poor -hussy!”</p> - -<p>Bonnibel was in truth like a horse distraught. -She was leaping back and forth, -and trotting from side to side of her capacious -box, nickering from time to time, -with head aloft and tail held like a plume -above her satin quarters. No sooner did -she hear Virginia’s voice than she stopped -short, quivering in every splendid limb and -sinew.</p> - -<p>“Bonnibel!” said Virginia, in that soft -monotone the frightened creature had not -now heard for many a day—“Bonnibel!” -There was a second’s pause; then stooping -her bright head, with a low whinny as of -welcome and trust, the gallant mare came -to the well-known voice.</p> - -<p>Virginia tore off her woollen shawl and -blindfolded the bright eyes.</p> - -<p>In the mean time the rest of the English -lads and the head groom had arrived, with -fire-engines and more help. They had already<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> -succeeded in getting the horse out. -The vicious Usurper they were compelled -to leave to his awful fate.</p> - -<p>“Boys, Bonnibel’s coming!” yelled the -lad who had entered the stable with Virginia, -dashing out ahead of her; “Miss -Herrick’s got her, and she’s coming kind -as a lamb!”</p> - -<p>A hearty, roaring cheer went up from -without, mingled with exultant warwhoops -from the negroes gathered around.</p> - -<p>Almost they were safe. Why do things -happen with only an inch between safety -and destruction? One instant more and -horse and woman would have been free. -But in that tarrying instant a heavy beam -from the front of the stable fell crashing -down, bringing with it a great mass of -bricks and mortar. Virginia and Bonnibel -were half buried under the reeking -mass. The flames sent up an exultant -roar as of triumph. There was a smothered, -horrified groan from the men, and then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> -Bonnibel, freeing herself by one powerful -effort of her iron quarters, galloped off into -the coolness of the night.</p> - -<p>They pulled Virginia out, with such gentleness -as they could spare to the encroaching -flames, and a bed was instantly made for -her on the damp turf by means of the men’s -hastily torn-off coats. She lay there, still, -white, most beautiful, with peace at last -upon her tired face. Did she dream, perchance, -that he forgave her?</p> - -<p>Ah! but the horror that followed—the -crash succeeding crash, the hideous rioting -of the vengeful flames about the poor -brutes within. Some were suffocated, some -jammed to death beneath the continually -falling masses of stone and brick. Usurper, -dauntless, rebellious to the last, struck -with his iron-shod feet at the flames that -made too free with him. He was so magnificent -in his fierce disdain that more than -one of the grooms sobbed like girls at the -fate which had overtaken him. All at once<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> -a cry, piercing, shrill, terrible above any -sound which had ever come upon their -hearing, shook the stillness of the night to -shuddering echoes. It was the one and only -sign of pain that Usurper gave ere he sank -to an awful death among the blazing ruins.</p> - -<p>Virginia’s senses returned to her as they -were carrying her home in solemn silence -and with bared heads. She tried to lift -herself on one elbow, and sank back with a -moan of pain; but even for that there went -up some muttered thanks from the men who -carried her. They had thought her dead.</p> - -<p>“Does the moving pain you, miss?” asked -the lad who had been with her in Bonnibel’s -box.</p> - -<p>“It hurts some,” she said, bravely. -“What’s happened?”</p> - -<p>They had to tell her all about the fire, -as though it were a thing new to her, and -how she had saved Bonnibel.</p> - -<p>“Oh, did I?” she said. “Did I?—air -yuh sure?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Sure, miss?” echoed the admiring Hicks. -“Sure? Well, I think we be pretty sure o’ -that ’ere! Bean’t we, boys?”</p> - -<p>They could not say enough.</p> - -<p>One thought was making music in Virginia’s -heart. “Perhaps he’ll forgive me -now,” she said over and over to herself. -She looked upward at the starry heavens -through the broad leaves of the catalpa-trees, -as they bore her up the last hill to -the house, with a feeling closely akin to -joy. “I’ve saved Bonnibel,” she thought—“I’ve -saved Bonnibel, anyways; ef he don’t -forgive me, I’ve done, somethin’ to make -him glad. ’Twas awful in that burnin’ -place; but I saved her—I saved her—I -saved her.” She said the last three words -out loud.</p> - -<p>“That you did, miss,” said the boy Hicks, -who walked close beside her. “Tell her -again, boys.”</p> - -<p>They told her over and over again, first -one and then the other; she seemed never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> -tired of listening. For the first time in -many, many days her white lips fell into -the gracious curves they used to know so -well. She was smiling—smiling for sheer -happiness. She was hurt to death, she -knew that; something whispered it in her -glad ears as distinctly as though the good -God had bent from his great heavens himself -to tell her so; and she knew—ah! she -knew—that her God had forgiven her. -Death had brought her two gifts so sweet -in his chill arms that his embrace scarcely -frightened her. As they carried her with -slow carefulness up the front steps and -into the wide hall an innocent fancy seized -her; she would like so much to die in Mr. -Jack’s room—on his little iron bed. There -couldn’t be any harm, could there? She -looked so wistfully up into the face of little -Hicks that he felt she wanted something, -and asked her what it was.</p> - -<p>“Kyar me into Mr. Jack’s room,” she -whispered. “It’s—it’s nearer the ground.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p> - -<p>The pretty subterfuge was also a very -good one. It would have been almost mortal -anguish to her, had they sought to bear -her poor wrecked body up that winding -stair-way.</p> - -<p>So into “Mr. Jack’s room” they carried -her, and placed her full gently on his forsaken -bed.</p> - -<p>Aunt Tishy came hurrying with inarticulate -cries. They hushed her as best they -might, telling her that any disturbance -might kill the girl. Then little Hicks -mounted one of Roden’s best horses and -dashed off in search of a surgeon.</p> - -<p>Virginia lay quiet and quite content, staring -with wide-open eyes at the well-known -objects in the airy room. Another delightful -fancy seized upon her. Ah! it was good -to lie there and die, and pretend that she -had been his wife, and that it was her right -to die in there with all those much-loved -manly kickshaws about her: the Scotch -deer-stalker’s cap, which hung on one of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> -the sconces of a little mirror over the mantle; -that heap of glittering spurs on a table -near at hand; his whip; his boots; an old -blue flannel shirt on the bed’s foot. She -had not allowed any one to enter his room -since he left for Windemere, nor had she -herself been in it.</p> - -<p>And even if he didn’t forgive her, she -saved Bonnibel. Suddenly there came upon -her an awful, crashing agony.</p> - -<p>“Mammy! mammy!” she called, in her -childhood’s voice. She clung to her old -nurse with might and main. “Oh, mammy, -mammy, I’m payin’ fur it! Yuh don’ know, -but I’m payin’ fur it. I’m so glad—I’m so -glad! Mammy, sing me ’bout ’though yo’ -sins be as scarlet’—sing! sing!”</p> - -<p>The old negress, as well as she could for -sobbing, sang to her in such words as these:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“’Tis de old ship o’ Zion,</div> -<div class="verse">Come to take us all ho-ome—</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Glory, glory, hallelujah!</div> -<div class="verse">’Tis de old ship o’ Zion,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> -<div class="verse">Come to take us all home—</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Glory, glory, hallelujah!”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Here she broke off with a pitiful cry: “O -Gord! my sweet lamb, mammy kyarn’ sing -to you while her heart’s fyar breakin’ in her. -Don’ ask pore mammy tuh sing, my honey—don’, -don’!”</p> - -<p>“Sing, please, sing,” said the girl, with -gentle insistence. Her mind was failing -her a little for the first time. “God alluz -furgives, don’ he, mammy? Alluz, alluz. -Sing ’bout it, mammy; please, mammy, -sing.”</p> - -<p>The old negress went on, brokenly:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“We has landed many thousands—</div> -<div class="verse indent3">Hallelujah!</div> -<div class="verse">An’ we’ll lan’ many mo-re—</div> -<div class="verse indent3">Hallelujah!”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“Please sing ’bout the sins, mammy; -that’s what I want—’bout the sins.”</p> - -<p>The poor old woman crooned on, swaying -her body to and fro as she crouched -at the bedside:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Do’ yo’ sins be as skyarlet,</div> -<div class="verse">Dey shall be as white as snow—</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Glory, glory, hallelujah!</div> -<div class="verse">Do’ yo’ sins be as skyarlet,</div> -<div class="verse">Dey shall be as white as snow—</div> -<div class="verse indent1">Glory, glory, hallelujah!</div> -<div class="verse">’Tis Jesus is deir Capt’in—</div> -<div class="verse indent4">Hallelujah!</div> -<div class="verse">’Tis Jesus is deir Capt’in—</div> -<div class="verse indent4">Hallelujah!”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“White ez snow—white ez snow,” murmured -the girl. “Mammy, do yo’ bleeve -that? Ain’t it sweet, mammy? don’ it -seem good an’ kind? Mammy, yo’ see -that ole blue shirt a-hangin’ thar? I loves -that shirt, mammy, same as some women -loves their children. It’s sorter got his -shape now, ain’t it? Hand it here, mammy. -Don’ it smell good?—kinder briery -an’ soapy, mammy? He used to take -more barths ’n any man yo’ ever hearn -ov. I used ter hear him a-splashin’ clear -up in my room. Where’s father, mammy? -I do want to see father, an’ I want<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> -to see Bonnibel ’fore I go. She came to -me—oh, so sweet an’ lovin’! She knew -I’d ’a’ died fur her, I reckon. Mammy, -did yo’ sen’ fur father? Pore father! pore -father! he’ll be so sorry! Oh, pore father!” -Here the first tears she had shed rolled -over her white cheeks. The old negress -sobbed out aloud.</p> - -<p>“Oh, my honey!” she said—“oh, my little -lamb!—oh, my honey!”</p> - -<p>Again came that terrible pain, almost beyond -her power to endure.</p> - -<p>“I’m payin’ fur it—I’m payin’ fur it,” -she said, over and over again. “God’s so -good to me! He’s forgiven me; he’s lettin’ -me pay fur it.”</p> - -<p>The surgeon came at daybreak. He -was quiet and serious. Little Hicks was -the only one to whom he told anything. -To him he said, “She may live two or -three days; she may die before night.”</p> - -<p>At one o’clock next day old Herrick returned. -He was wordless and almost majestic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> -in his deep grief. All day long he -sat holding her in such positions as would -ease her; talking to her; trying to follow -her wandering fancies. She knew him -always, though she knew no one else. -“Father,” she said, suddenly, in one of the -intervals when reason returned to her, -“won’t you please sen’ fur Mr. Jack? -Somethin’ in my heart tells me he’ll come—now. -Write to him ’bout Bonnibel. Tell -him I saved her. Tell him I jess want ter -say good-by. I don’ wan’ him ever ter furgive -me. I only want to—to look at him -once more. Father”—wistfully—“<em>you</em> -think he’ll come?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, my little girl, I think he’ll -come.”</p> - -<p>“Then write, write, father—quick. Don’ -let it be too late. I wan’ so bad to look at -him once more!”</p> - -<p>He came—oh yes, he came! mad with -regret and remorse, repentant, eager to -atone. “Where is she? where is she?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -he asked as he threw down his hat upon -the hall table, and jerked off his spurs, that -their jingling might not disturb her. If -he had only known the music that they -made to her ears!</p> - -<p>“She’s in yo’ room, sur. They tells me -ez how ’twar her fancy to be took thar,” -said Herrick, simply. “I hope ez you don’ -min’, sur.”</p> - -<p>Mind! Jack’s eyes were hot with the -saddest tears of all his life.</p> - -<p>He went in softly. There she lay, pathetic, -fragile as some long-ill child upon -his narrow bed. He went and stooped -over her, taking into one of his brown -hands her restless, slender fingers. Her -gentle look rested unknowingly upon him.</p> - -<p>“Ain’t they goin’ ter sen’ fur Mr. Jack?” -she said. “I think he’ll come—now; father -thought ez how he would. Please -write it down that I saved Bonnibel—please -write that down. ’Twas mighty hot, -but I saved her. Oh, don’ yo’ think he’ll<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> -come?—don’ yo’ think he’ll come? I don’ -even arst him to speak to me. Ef he’ll -only stand in th’ door so ez I kin see him -when I go.”</p> - -<p>“Virginia—Virginia,” said Roden, brokenly. -“My dear little girl, don’t you -know me? Here I am!—here—at your -side. Don’t you feel my hands, Virginia? -Don’t you know me?”</p> - -<p>She went rambling on. “I wonder ef -he would furgive me ef he knew? I wisht -Bonnibel could tell him—I wisht I was -Bonnibel!” with a little rippling laugh infinitely -pathetic. “Oh, wouldn’ I kyar him -pretty an’ straight at his fences, an’ win -ev’y race fur him!” Her eyes opened -vague and sorrowful again upon Roden’s -pale face. “Oh,” she said, with a long -sighing breath, “don’t you think he’ll come? -Write to him ’bout Bonnibel—please write -that ter him.”</p> - -<p>“Virginia, look at me—look at me,” said -the young man, half lifting her in his arms.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> -“Dear little Virginia, here I am. I forgive -you with all my heart and soul, Virginia. -Oh, please look at me, please remember -me.”</p> - -<p>“Who says ‘furgive?’” she said, with her -restless, eager eyes searching the room as -if for something long expected—“who says -‘furgive?’”</p> - -<p>“I do, I do,” Roden said, weeping at last -like any girl. “I forgive you, Virginia—Virginia. -You <em>shall</em> know me!”</p> - -<p>Her eyes fixed themselves upon his face, -first vacantly, then with a wonder-stricken -radiance. “Mr. Jack,” she said, under her -breath, “did they tell yo’? I saved her; -that’s all. Yo’ needn’ say nothin’; I jess -wanted to look at yo’. I saved her. ’Twas -awful hot. I kin hear it roarin’ now. She -come to me; she wouldn’ come to nobody -else.”</p> - -<p>“Virginia,” said Roden, “listen to me; -stop talking. What do I care about Bonnibel? -Child, do you want to break my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> -heart? Listen, Virginia; I forgive you—I -<em>forgive you</em>.”</p> - -<p>“Do—you—really?” she said, with the -old timid joy in her soft voice. “I ain’t -dreamin’? Well, God’s so good to me! -But I did save her. ‘Bonnibel!’ I said—‘Bonnibel!’ -an’ she come right straight ter -me with her pretty head tucked down. -Then came all that fire on us. I thought -’twas over. But I saved her—I saved her. -Please tell him that—<em>please</em> tell him that. -I reckon he’ll sorter remember me kind fur -that; don’ you, father?”</p> - -<p>After a while her reason came again. -She asked to see Bonnibel; they could -bring her to the window, she said, and she -would like also to give her a handful of -grass.</p> - -<p>They rolled the bed to the window, and -little Hicks led Bonnibel up beside it. Roden -went out himself and gathered a handful -of fresh grass. I think the lad only respected -his master more for the tears that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> -ran down his cheeks. He couldn’t see -very distinctly himself just then, this good -little Hicks.</p> - -<p>“Bonnibel,” said the girl, in her cooing -tones—“Bonnibel.”</p> - -<p>What was the matter? Had suffering -charged some magic in that soft voice? -Bonnibel turned indifferently away from -the anxious hand, and rubbed her bright -head with an impatient movement against -one of her fore-legs.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” said the girl, while the glad flush -died out of her face, and the green blades -fell from her hold upon the window-sill, -“Bonnibel don’ know me any more—she -don’ care. I gave my life for her, an’—an’ -she don’ care.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, she does—she does,” said Roden, -frantic for her disappointment; “she’s just -gorged, the little glutton! She’s been out -at grass ever since you saved her, Virginia -dear; that’s all.”</p> - -<p>“No, ’tain’t,” said the girl, sadly. “I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> -ain’t the same, I reckon; I reckon I’m right -near gone, Mr. Jack. Well, I saved her, -anyhow. The most part fell on me; she -kicked herself loose. Please, father, ef Mr. -Jack don’ come in time—<em>please</em>, father, tell -him ez how I saved Bonnibel. Oh, father, -I mus’ tell somebody ’fore I go. I kyarn’ -bear to think there won’t be anybody in -all th’ world ez knows it when I’m gone. -I loved him, father dear—I loved him so! -An’ I’ve been mighty wicked; an’ God’s been -mighty good ter me; an’ I’m goin’ to heaven, -mammy says. But I won’t have him even -there—I won’t have him—even there.”</p> - -<p>The soft voice broke suddenly—stopped. -The bright head dropped forward on her -breast.</p> - -<p>Roden had buried his face in her two -pale hands. When he looked up, old Herrick -was closing gently with his toil-roughened -hand the sweet wide eyes which never -more would look on anything this side the -stars.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was at this moment that Bonnibel, repenting, -perhaps, of her former coldness, -thrust in her little deer-head at the open -window, and drew a long sighing breath as -of contentment.</p> - -<p>The blades of grass dropped from the -thin hand now so still upon the stirless -bosom were blown along the window-sill -by the mare’s warm breath.</p> - -<p class="titlepage">THE END.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="center"><span class="larger">A BROTHER TO DRAGONS,</span><br /> -AND OTHER OLD-TIME TALES.</p> - -<p class="center">By <span class="smcap">Amélie Rives</span>. Post 8vo, Cloth, Extra, $1 00.</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>Not alone in the success in reproducing the antique diction are -they remarkable, but in getting the color and atmosphere of the -period… In the observation of natural objects, and above all -the knowledge of the human heart, is found the promise that this -work holds forth… The volume takes high rank in the department -which marks the most notable achievements of American -letters at the present day.—<cite>N. Y. Commercial Advertiser.</cite></p> - -<p>How well Miss Rives has sustained and added to the reputation -she so suddenly won, we all know, and the permanency of -that reputation demonstrates conclusively that her success did -not depend upon the lucky striking of a popular fancy, but that it -rests upon enduring qualities that are developing more and more -richly year by year.—<cite>Richmond State.</cite></p> - -<p>Miss Rives is a woman of most undoubted power. She has -imagination, daring, and an exquisite sense of form.—<cite>N. Y. Star.</cite></p> - -<p>Three of Miss Amélie Rives’s most brilliant stories… Their -quaint old-time manner gives them a peculiar charm.—<cite>Philadelphia -Bulletin.</cite></p> - -<p>Three striking stories of very unusual force and fertility of -thought and diction and strong dramatic feeling, added to which -is a quick and sympathetic fancy.—<cite>N. Y. Sun.</cite></p> - -<p>Here is pathos which is not morbid; and though the humor is -broad, it is in perfect keeping with the time and the characters of -the supposed narrators. These three stories are rich in promise.—<cite>Critic</cite>, -N. Y.</p> - -<p>For more reasons than one Miss Rives is seen at her best in -old-time tales such as she shows us in this volume. The atmosphere -with which these tales are clothed is especially congenial -to her, and she can work within its influence with remarkable success.—<cite>Brooklyn -Times.</cite></p> - -<p>It is evident that the author has imagination in an unusual degree, -much strength of expression, and skill in delineating character.—<cite>Boston -Journal.</cite></p> - -<p>There are few young writers who begin a promising career -with so much spontaneity and charm of expression as is displayed -by Miss Rives in this volume.—<cite>Literary World</cite>, Boston.</p> - -</div> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.</span></p> - -<p class="center">🖙 <i><span class="smcap">Harper & Brothers</span> will send the above work by mail, postage pre-paid, -to any part of the United States or Canada, on receipt of the price.</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="center larger">CAPTAIN MACDONALD’S DAUGHTER.</p> - -<p class="center">A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Archibald Campbell</span>. 16mo, Cloth, -Extra, $1 00.</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>It is a genuinely pathetic tale, and shows a keen and accurate -knowledge of human nature under many varying conditions.—<cite>Saturday -Evening Gazette</cite>, Boston.</p> - -<p>A story of sound moral quality and touching pathos.—<cite>N. Y. -Commercial Advertiser.</cite></p> - -<p>There are many excellent delineations of scenes and life in -Scotland, Virginia, and Florida… The characters are also carefully -studied and successfully drawn. The heroine, the warmhearted, -impulsive, and gifted Nan, especially, is a very charming -personage… As a quiet story, with a pathetic vein running -through it, we can confidently recommend it to all.—<cite>Congregationalist</cite>, -Boston.</p> - -<p>Full of life and movement, and marked by both power and -pathos.—<cite>Zion’s Herald</cite>, Boston.</p> - -<p>The characters are very well drawn, and there is a natural development -of the plot… The descriptions of scenery are vivid -and life-like, and the scenes are totally free from the extravagance -which mars so much contemporary fiction. The author of this -work will be heard from again.—<cite>Christian Intelligencer</cite>, N. Y.</p> - -<p>A novel of Scottish life, shifting to American scenes, and gives -the reader a glimpse of life in Virginia and Florida. The story -is told with much simplicity, though a study of heredity is in-wrought -with the artless narrative… The story is quiet in action, -but will please lovers of naturalness and faithful character -delineation.—<cite>Commonwealth</cite>, Boston.</p> - -<p>The characters of the story are strong and the book well written.—<cite>Christian -Advocate</cite>, N. Y.</p> - -<p>A strong hand has drawn the minister’s household in the manse -of Strathlowrie. Surely the author must have at some time made -one of just such a Scotch family, so graphic are the touches of -reality… Seldom has a grave story of a minister’s household -been told with such a rippling accompaniment of humor.—<cite>Philadelphia -Ledger.</cite></p> - -<p>A bright, engaging book, sparkling with shrewd Scotch wit on -nearly every page, and ends most satisfactorily.—<cite>Christian at -Work</cite>, N. Y.</p> - -</div> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.</span></p> - -<p class="center">🖙 <i><span class="smcap">Harper & Brothers</span> will send the above work by mail, postage pre-paid, -to any part of the United States or Canada, on receipt of the price.</i></p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Virginia of Virginia, by Amélie Rives - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIRGINIA OF VIRGINIA *** - -***** This file should be named 53838-h.htm or 53838-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/8/3/53838/ - -Produced by MWS and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from -images generously made available by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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