Part 35 (2/2)

”Our women of the South,” said the Judge, who listened, ”are more of an inspiration because they are never a.s.sociated in our minds with any life but that of the home circle and its refining influences. When our women enter the arena, it is only in the heart and memory of some man whose ideals, Madame, are higher, whose ambitions are n.o.bler, because she exists untouched by the notoriety attaching itself to the court intrigues you mention, the notoriety too often miscalled fame.”

”Right you are, Judge,” said Delaven, heartily. ”After all, human nature is very much alike whether in kingdom or republic, and men love best the same sort of women the world over.”

Matthew Loring entered the room just then, leaning on the arm of Gertrude, whose fair hair made harmony with the corn-colored lawn in which she looked daintily pretty, and as the two ladies faced each other the contrasted types made a most effective picture.

”You have not met the Marquise de Caron?” he asked of Gertrude; and then with a certain pride in this last of the Lorings, he continued: ”Madame la Marquise, allow me to present my niece, Miss Loring.”

The blue eyes of the Carolina girl and the mesmeric amber eyes of the Parisian met, with the slight conventional smile ladies favor each other with, sometimes. There was decided interest shown by each in the other--an interest alert and questioning. Judithe turned brightly to Loring:

”In your democratic land, my dear sir, I have dispensed with 'La Marquise.' While here I am Madame Caron, very much at your service,”

and she made him a miniature bow.

”We shall not forget your preference, Madame Caron,” said Gertrude, ”it is a pretty compliment to our inst.i.tutions.” Then she glanced at Delaven, ”did we interrupt a dissertation on your favorite topic, Doctor?”

”Never a bit; it's yourself is an inspiration to continue the same topic indefinitely,” and he explained the difference Madame Caron had noticed in political matter with and without the feminine element.

”For all that, there _are_ women in the political machines here, also,” said Loring, testily--”too many of them, secret agents, spies, and the like. Gertrude, what was it Captain Masterson reported about some very dangerous person of that sort in New Orleans?--a woman whose a.s.sistance to the Yankees was remarkable, and whose circle of acquaintances was without doubt the very highest--did he learn her name?”

”Why, no, Uncle Matthew; don't you remember he was finding fault with _our_ secret agents because they had not established her ident.i.ty--in fact, had only circ.u.mstantial evidence that it was a woman, though very positive evidence that the person belonged to the higher social circle there.”

”Faith, I should think the higher circle would be in a sorry whirl just then--not knowing which of your neighbors at dinner had a cup or dagger for you.”

”The daggers were only figurative,” said the Judge, ”but they were none the less dangerous, and the shame of it! each innocent loyal Southerner convinced that a traitor had been made as one of themselves--trusted as is the nature of Southerners when dealing with friends, just as if, in this Eden-like abode, Mistress McVeigh should be entertaining in any one of us, supposed to be loyal Southerners, a traitor to his country.”

”How dreadful to imagine!” said Judithe, with a little gesture of horror, ”and what do they do with them--those dangerous serpents of Eden?”

”It isn't nice at all to hear about, Madame Caron,” spoke Aunt Sajane, who was, as usual, occupied with the unlovely knitting. ”It gave me chills to hear Phil Masterson say how that spy would be treated when found--not even given time for prayers!”

”Captain Masterson is most loyal and zealous, but given to slight extravagancies in such matters,” amended the Judge. ”No woman has ever suffered the extreme penalty of military law for spy work, in this country, and especially would it be impossible in the South.

Imprisonment indefinitely and the probable confiscation of all property would no doubt be the sentence if, as in this suspected case, the traitoress were a Southern woman of means. But that seems scarcely credible. I have heard of the affair mentioned, but I refuse to believe any daughter of the South would so employ herself.”

”Thank you, Judge,” said Gertrude, very prettily; ”any daughter of the South would die of shame from the very suspicion against her.”

”Who is to die?” asked Mrs. McVeigh, coming in; ”all of you, and of hunger, perhaps, if I delay tea any longer. Come right on into the dining room, please, and let me hear this discussion of Southern daughters, for I chance to be a daughter of the South myself.”

Captain Philip Masterson, from an adjoining plantation, arrived after they were seated at the table, and was taken at once into the dining room, where Judithe regarded with interest this extremist who would not allow a secret agent of the North time for prayers. He did not look very ferocious, though his manner had a bluntness not usual in the Southern men she had met--a soldier above and beyond everything else, intelligent, but not broad, good looking with the good looks of dark, curly hair, a high color, heavy mustache, which he had a weakness for caressing as he talked, and full, bold eyes roaming about promiscuously and taking entire advantage of the freedom granted him at the Terrace, where he had been received as neighbor since boyhood.

He was a cousin of Gertrude's, and it was not difficult to see that she was the first lady in the county to him, and the county was the center of Philip Masterson's universe.

He was stationed at Charleston and was absent only for some necessary business at Columbia, and hearing Judge Clarkson was at the Terrace he had halted long enough to greet the folks and consult the Judge on some legal technicality involved in his journey.

Pluto, who had seen that the Captain's horse had also been given refreshment, came thoughtfully up the steps, puzzling his head over the perfect rose cast aside on a pretense. It puzzled him quite as much as the problem of Louise; and the only key he could find to it was that this very grand lady knew all about the ident.i.ty of Louise, and knew why she had hurried away so when old Nelse recognized her.

He wished he had that picture of Margeret, brought by Rosa from Georgia. But it was still with a lot of Rosa's things over at the Larue plantation, with the child. He counted on going over to see the boy in a week at the furthest.

As he reached the top of the steps he could see Margeret through the open window of the sitting room. Her back was towards him, and she was so absorbed in regarding the party in the dining room that he approached unnoticed, and she turned with a gasp as of fear when he spoke:

”You're like to see more gay folks like that over here than you have at Loringwood,” he remarked. ”I reckon you glad to move.”

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