Part 28 (1/2)

CHAPTER XIV

AT THE BIG HOUSE

The fire lay gray in ashes at the dawn, when Eddring awoke, and the gray reek of the cane-brake mist was over everything. The leaves of the trees and of the cane dripped moisture, and the dew stood also in heavy beads upon the roof of the little green-thatched house. A short distance apart Eddring built another fire. Presently the sleepers in the little house awoke, and he saw emerge madame, tucking at her hair, and Miss Lady, in spite of all fresh and rosy in the wondrous possession of youth, as though she were a Dryad born of these surrounding trees. There seemed to sit upon her the primeval vigor of the wilderness. She came to him gaily enough and said good morning as though there had been but recent friends.h.i.+p and not aloofness. She pushed back her hair, and smoothed down her skirt and combed out with her fingers the bunch of bright ribbons at her waist. She and madame, having made ablutions at the island brink, returned, all the fresher and more laughing. Eddring's heart quickened in his bosom as he saw Miss Lady smile once more.

”Come,” said she, ”let's explore our desert island; yonder's such a pretty little path,”--and she pointed down the path which Eddring had already investigated.

”No,” he said, ”the cane is very wet; you'd better sit close by the fire, so that you will not feel the damp. Now, I will get the breakfast; and I promise you, this is to be our last meal in the forest.”

”Our last?” said madame. ”What you mean?”

”In a couple of hours we shall be at the Big House,” said Eddring. ”I have looked about, and I know this place perfectly. We are only four or five miles from the station, and the way will be plain.”

”Monsieur,” said madame, ”I shall be almost sorry. It is the fine peek-_neek._ Never have I slept so before.”

”I, too, have slept nicely,” said Miss Lady, ”and I want to thank you. Shall we be out of the wood so soon?” There was small elation in her own voice, after all. In her soul there was a wild, inexplicable longing that this present hour might endure. Fear was gone, in some way, she knew not how. What there might be ahead, Miss Lady did not know. Here in the forest she felt safe.

The hurried breakfast was soon despatched and Eddring, taking aboard his pa.s.sengers once more, pushed out into the broad sea which lay through all the heavy forest. The nearest road to the station was under water, and, as it offered few obstructions, Eddring for the most part followed its curves for the remainder of his boat journey.

At length, as he had said, he brought up within sight of the telegraph poles along the railway. He pa.s.sed by boat even beyond the little station-house, and landed at the edge of what had been the Big House lawn.

On every side there was ruin and desolation. The rude fence of the railway track had caught and held a certain amount of wreckage. Most of the field cabins were above the water, but others were half out of sight, deep in the flood. Fences were well-nigh obliterated. Half of the Big House plantation was under water. Above all this scene of ruin, high, strong and grim, the Big House itself stood, now silent and apparently deserted. Toward it the voyagers hurried. It was not until they knocked at the door that they met signs of life.

In response to repeated summons there appeared at the door the gaunt figure of Colonel Calvin Blount himself, s.h.i.+rt-sleeved, unshaven, pale, his left arm tightly bandaged to his side, his hawk-like eye alone showing the wonted fire of his disposition. Each man threw an arm over the other's shoulder after their hands had met in silent grasp.

”I am not too late,” said Eddring. ”Thank G.o.d!”

”No, not quite too late,” said Blount. ”There is a little left--not much. Who's with you?”

”The one you sent for,” said Eddring, stepping aside, ”and this is Madame Delcha.s.se, the one woman, Colonel, whom you and I ought to thank with all our hearts. She has been the friend of Miss Lady when certainly she needed one.”

Blount stepped forward, a smile softening his grim face. ”Oh, Miss Lady, Miss Lady,” he cried, extending his unhampered hand. ”You ran away from us! You didn't do right! What made you? Where have you been? What have you been doing?” Miss Lady's eyes only filled, and she found no speech.

”But now you're back,” Blount went on. ”You need friends, and you've come back to the right place. Here are three friends of yours. Madame Delcha.s.se--” this as Miss Lady drew her companion toward him with one hand, ”I am glad to see you. It you ever befriended this girl, you are our friend here. Come in, and we will take care of you the best we can, though we've not much left--not much left.

”You see,” said he, turning toward Eddring, ”that boy Jack of yours came down with the news of this uprising that I mentioned in my message. He brought along his woman; and I must say that though I don't much mind this--”--he pointed to his injured arm--”if I have to eat that woman's cooking much longer, I'm going to die.”

Then it was that Clarisse Delcha.s.se arose grandly to the occasion.

”Monsieur Colonel,” she said, as she divested herself of her bonnet, ”I have swear I would cook no more; but me? I am once the best cook in New Orleans. I cook not for money, ah, _non!_ but from pity!

Sir, humanity it is so outrage' by the poor cook that I have pity!

So, Monsieur, I have pity also of you. Show me this girl that can not cook, and show me also the kitshen. Ah, we shall see whether Clarisse Delcha.s.se have forget!”

”Show her, Miss Lady,” said Blount. ”Show her. The place is yours.

Oh, girl, we're glad enough to have you back. Go get that gold- toothed woman of Jack's, go get 'em all, if you can find any of 'em around. Get Bill, he's around somewhere--get any of 'em you can find, and tell 'em to take care of you. Child, child, it's glad enough we all are to have you back again. Ah, Miss Lady, what made you go away?”

Even as he spoke, Madame Delcha.s.se, rolling up her cuffs, was marching down the hall. ”By jinks!” said Blount, looking after her admiringly. ”By jinks! It looks like things were going to happen, don't it?” His strained features relaxed into a smile.

”But now come on, son,” he said, turning to Eddring, ”you and I have got to have a talk. I'll tell you about some of the things that _have_ happened. We've been busy here in Tullahoma.”