Part 46 (1/2)
A MAN MISSING.
The breakfast bell of Casa del Corvo had sounded its second and last summons--preceded by a still earlier signal from a horn, intended to call in the stragglers from remote parts of the plantation.
The ”field hands” labouring near had collected around the ”quarter;” and in groups, squatted upon the gra.s.s, or seated upon stray logs, were discussing their diet--by no means spare--of ”hog and hominy” corn-bread and ”corn-coffee,” with a jocosity that proclaimed a keen relish of these, their ordinary comestibles.
The planter's family a.s.sembled in the _sala_ were about to begin breakfast, when it was discovered that one of its members was missing.
Henry was the absent one.
At first there was but little notice taken of the circ.u.mstance. Only the conjecture: that he would shortly make his appearance.
As several minutes pa.s.sed without his coming in, the planter quietly observed that it was rather strange of Henry to be behind time, and wonder where he could be.
The breakfast of the South-western American is usually a well appointed meal. It is eaten at a fixed hour, and _table-d'hote_ fas.h.i.+on--all the members of the family meeting at the table.
This habit is exacted by a sort of necessity, arising out of the nature of some of the viands peculiar to the country; many of which, as ”Virginia biscuit,” ”buckwheat cakes,” and ”waffles,” are only relished coming fresh from, the fire: so that the hour when breakfast is being eaten in the dining-room, is that in which the cook is broiling her skin in the kitchen.
As the laggard, or late riser, may have to put up with cold biscuit, and no waffles or buckwheat cakes, there are few such on a Southern plantation.
Considering this custom, it _was_ somewhat strange, that Henry Poindexter had not yet put in an appearance.
”Where can the boy be?” asked his father, for the fourth time, in that tone of mild conjecture that scarce calls for reply.
None was made by either of the other two guests at the table. Louise only gave expression to a similar conjecture. For all that, there was a strangeness in her glance--as in the tone of her voice--that might have been observed by one closely scrutinising her features.
It could scarce be caused by the absence of her brother from the breakfast-table? The circ.u.mstance was too trifling to call up an emotion; and clearly at that moment was she subject to one.
What was it? No one put the inquiry. Her father did not notice anything odd in her look. Much less Calhoun, who was himself markedly labouring to conceal some disagreeable thought under the guise of an a.s.sumed _naivete_.
Ever since entering the room he had maintained a studied silence; keeping his eyes averted, instead of, according to his usual custom, constantly straying towards his cousin.
He sate nervously in his chair; and once or twice might have been seen to start, as a servant entered the room.
Beyond doubt he was under the influence of some extraordinary agitation.
”Very strange Henry not being here to his breakfast!” remarked the planter, for about the tenth time. ”Surely he is not abed till this hour? No--no--he never lies so late. And yet if abroad, he couldn't be at such a distance as not to have heard the horn. He _may_ be in his room? It is just possible. Pluto!”
”Ho--ho! d'ye call me, Ma.s.s' Woodley? I'se hya.” The sable coachee, acting as table waiter, was in the _sala_, hovering around the chairs.
”Go to Henry's sleeping-room. If he's there, tell him we're at breakfast--half through with it.”
”He no dar, Ma.s.s' Woodley.”
”You have been to his room?”
”Ho--ho! Yas. Dat am I'se no been to de room itseff; but I'se been to de 'table, to look atter Ma.s.sa Henry hoss; an gib um him fodder an corn.
Ho--ho! Dat same ole hoss he ain't dar; nor han't a been all ob dis mornin'. I war up by de fuss skreek ob day. No hoss dar, no saddle, no bridle; and ob coa.s.s no Ma.s.sa Henry. Ho--ho! He been an gone out 'fore anb'dy wor 'tirrin' 'bout de place.”
”Are you sure?” asked the planter, seriously stirred by the intelligence.