Part 28 (1/2)

”Oh,” said Junius, turning suddenly at the door, ”I forgot that you asked me to observe her mood. Well, she was very angry.”

”With me?” cried Lawrence.

”With me,” said Junius. And closing the door behind him, he strode away.

The accepted lover sat down. He had never spoken more truly than when he said he did not understand it. ”Is she really mine?” he exclaimed.

And with his eyes fixed on the blank wall over the mantel-piece, he repeated over and over again: ”Is she mine? Is she really mine?” He had well developed mental powers, but the work of setting this matter straight and plain was too difficult for him.

If she had sent him some such message as this: ”I am very angry with you, but some day you can come and explain yourself to me;” his heart would have leaped for joy. He would have believed that his peace had been made, and that he had only to go to her to call her his own. Now his heart desired to leap with joy, but it did not seem to know how to do it. The situation was such an anomalous one. After such a message as this, why had she not let him see her? Why had she been angry with Keswick? Was that pique? And then a dark thought crossed his mind. Had he been accepted to punish the other? No, he could not believe that; no woman such as Roberta March would give herself away from such a motive. Had Keswick been joking with him? No, he could not believe that; no man could joke with such a face.

Even the fact that Mrs Keswick had not bid Miss March farewell, troubled the mind of Lawrence. It was true that she might not yet know that the match, which she had so much encouraged, had been finally made, but something must be very wrong, or she would not have been absent at the moment of her guest's departure. And what did that beastly little negro mean by telling him that Keswick and Miss March were to be married at Christmas, and that the two were kissing each other good-bye in the parlor? Why, the man had not even come out to put her in the carriage, and the omission of this courtesy was very remarkable. These questions were entirely too difficult for him to resolve by himself. It was absolutely necessary that more should be told to him, and explained to him. Seeing the negro boy Plez crossing the yard, he called him and asked him to tell Mr Keswick that Mr Croft wished to see him immediately.

”Mahs' Junius,” said the boy, ”he done gone to de railroad to take de kyars. He done took he knapsack on he back, an' walk 'cross de fiel's.”

When, about an hour or two afterwards, Uncle Isham brought Mr Croft his dinner, the old negro appeared to have lost that air of attentive geniality which he usually put on while waiting on the gentleman.

Lawrence, however, took no notice of this, but before the man reached the table, on which he was to place the tray he carried, he asked: ”Is it true that Mr Keswick has gone away by train?”

”Yaas, sah,” answered Isham.

”And where is Mrs Keswick?” asked Lawrence. ”Isn't she in the house?”

”No, sah, done gwine vis'tin, I 'spec.”

”When will she return?”

”Dunno,” said Isham. ”She nebber comes to me an' tells me whar she gwine, an' when she comin' back.”

And then, after satisfying himself that nothing more was needed of him for the present, Isham left the room; and when he reached the kitchen, he addressed himself to its plump mistress: ”Letty,” said he, ”when dat ar Mister Crof has got froo wid his dinner, you go an' fotch back de plates an' dishes. He axes too many questions to suit me, dis day.”

”You is poh'ly to-day, Uncle Isham,” said Letty.

”Yaas,” said the old man, ”I's right much on the careen.”

Uncle Isham, perhaps, was not more loyal to the widow Keswick than many old servants were and are to their former mistresses, but his loyalty was peculiar in that it related princ.i.p.ally to his regard for her character. This regard he wished to be very high, and it always troubled and unsettled his mind, when the old lady herself or anybody else interfered with his efforts to keep it high. For years he had been hoping that the time would come when she would cease to ”rar and chawge,” but she had continued, at intervals, to indulge in that most unsuitable exercise; and now that it appeared that she had reared and charged again, her old servant was much depressed. She had gone away from the house, and, for all he knew, she might stay away for days or weeks, as she had done before, and Uncle Isham was never so much ”on the careen” as when he found himself forced to believe that his old mistress was still a woman who could do a thing like that.

Letty had no objections to answering questions, but much to her disappointment, Lawrence asked her none. He had had enough of catechising negroes. But he requested her to ask Mrs Null if she would be kind enough to step out, for a few minutes, and speak to him. When, very shortly thereafter, that lady appeared, Lawrence was seated at his open door ready to receive her.

”How are you?” she said. ”And how is your ankle to-day? You have had n.o.body to attend to it.”

”It has hurt me a good deal,” he answered. ”I think I must have given it a wrench this morning, but I put on it some of the lotion Mrs Keswick left with me, and it feels better.”

”It is too bad,” said Mrs Null, ”that you have to attend to it yourself.”

”Not at all,” said Lawrence. ”Now that I know how, I can do it, perfectly well, and I don't care a snap about my ankle, except that it interferes with more important affairs. Why do you suppose Miss March went away without speaking to me, or taking leave of me in any way?”

”I thought that would trouble you,” said she, ”and, to speak honestly, I don't think it was right. But Roberta was in a very agitated condition, when she left here, and I don't believe she ever thought of taking leave of you, or any one, except me. She and I are very good friends, but she don't confide much in me. But one thing I am pretty sure of, and that is that she is dreadfully angry with my cousin Junius, and I am very sorry for that.”

”How did he anger her?” asked Lawrence, wis.h.i.+ng to find out how much this young woman knew. ”I haven't the least idea,” said Miss Annie.

”All I know is, she had quite a long talk with him, in the parlor, and after that she came flying up-stairs, just as indignant as she could be. She didn't say much, but I could see how her soul raged within her.” And now the young lady stopped speaking, and looked straight into Lawrence's face. ”It isn't possible,” she said, ”that you have been sending my cousin to propose to her for you?”