Part 54 (2/2)
”Poor fellow!” and Delaven shook his head sadly over the fate of Monroe. Evilena eyed him suspiciously; but his face was all innocence and sympathy.
”It is terrible,” she a.s.sented; ”poor mama just wept this morning when we heard of it; of course, if he really proves to be a spy, we should not care what happened to him; but mama thinks of his mother, and of his dead brother, and--well, we both prayed for him this morning; it was all we could do. Kenneth says no one must go near him, and of course Kenneth knows what is best; but we are both hoping with all our hearts that he had nothing to do with that spy; funny, isn't it, that we are praying and crying on account of a man who, after all, is a real Yankee?”
”Faith, I'd turn Yankee myself for the same sweet sympathy,” declared Delaven, and received only a reproachful glance for his frivolity.
Judithe crossed the hall to the library, the indifferent smile still on her lips, her movements graceful and unhurried; under the curious eyes of Gertrude Loring she would show no special interest in the man under discussion, or the guard just arrived, but for all that the arrival of the guard determined her course. All her courage was needed to face the inevitable; the inevitable had arrived, and she was not a coward.
She looked at the wedding ring on her finger; it had been the wedding ring of the dowager long ago, and she had given it to Kenneth McVeigh that morning for the ceremony.
”Maman would approve if she knew all,” she a.s.sured herself, and now she touched the ring to remind her of many things, and to blot out the remembrance of others, for instance, the avowal of love under the arbor in the dusk of the night before!
”But _that_ was last night,” she thought, grimly; ”the darkness made me impressionable, the situation made of me a nervous fool, who said the thing she felt and had no right to feel. It is no longer night, and I am no longer a fool! Do not let me forget, little ring, why I allowed you to be placed there. I am going to tell him now, and I shall need you and--Maman.”
So she pa.s.sed into the library; there could be no further delay, since the guard had arrived; Monroe should not be sacrificed.
She closed the door after her and looked around. A man was in the large arm chair by the table, but it was not Colonel McVeigh. It was Matthew Loring, whose man Ben was closing a refractory banging shutter, and drawing curtains over the windows, while Pluto brought in a lighted lamp for the table, and both of them listened stoically to Loring's grumbling.
For a wonder he approved of the innovation of lamps and closed shutters. He had, in fact, come from his own room because of the fury of the storm. He growled that the noise of it annoyed him, but would not have acknowledged the truth, that the force of it appalled him, and that he shrank from being alone while the lightning threw threats in every direction, and the crashes of thunder shook the house.
”No, Kenneth isn't here,” he answered, grumpily. ”They told me he was, but the n.i.g.g.e.r lied.”
”Mahsa Kenneth jest gone up to his own room, Madame Caron,” said Pluto, quietly. ”Mist'ess, she went, too, an' Judge Clarkson.”
”Humph! Clarkson has got him pinned down at last, has he?” and there was a note of satisfaction in his tone. ”I was beginning to think that between this fracas with the spy, and his galloping around the country, he would have no time left for business. I should not think you'd consider it worth while to go pleasure-riding such a morning as this.”
”Oh, yes; it was quite worth while,” she answered, serenely; ”the storm did not break until our return. You are waiting for Colonel McVeigh? So am I, and in the meantime I am at your service, willing to be entertained.”
”I am too much upset to entertain any one today,” he declared, fretfully; ”that trouble last night spoiled my rest. I knew the woman Margeret lied when she came back and said it was only an accident. I'm nervous as a cat today. The doctors forbid me every form of excitement, yet they quarter a Yankee spy in the room over mine, and commence shooting affairs in the middle of the night. It's--it's outrageous!”
He fell back in the chair, exhausted by his indignation. Judithe took the fan from Pluto's hand and waved it gently above the dark, vindictive face. His eyes were closed and as she surveyed the cynical countenance a sudden determination came to her. If she _should_ leave for Savannah in the morning, why not let Matthew Loring hear, first, of the plans for Loringwood's future? She knew how to hurt Kenneth McVeigh; she meant to see if there was any way of hurting this trafficker in humanity, this aristocratic panderer to horrid vices.
”You may go, Pluto,” she said, kindly. ”I will ring if you are needed.”
Both the colored men went out, closing the door after them, and she brought a ha.s.sock and placed it beside his chair, and seated herself, after taking a book from the shelf and opening it without glancing at the t.i.tle or pages.
”Since you refuse to be entertainer, Monsieur Loring, you must submit to being entertained,” she said, pleasantly; ”shall I sing to you, read to you, or tell you a story?”
Her direct and persistent graciousness made him straighten up in his chair and regard her, inquiringly; there was a curious mocking tone in her voice as she spoke, but the voice itself was forgotten as he looked in her face.
The light from the lamp was s.h.i.+ning full on her face, and the face was closer to him than it had ever been before. If she designed to dazzle him by thus arranging a living picture for his benefit she certainly succeeded. He had never really seen her until now, and he caught his breath sharply and was conscious that one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen in his life was looking at him with a strange smile touching her perfect mouth, and a strange haunting resemblance to some one once known, s.h.i.+ning in her dark eyes.
”What sort of stories do you prefer--love stories?” she continued, as he did not speak--only stared at her; ”or, since we have had a real adventure in the house last night, possibly you would be interested in the intrigue back of that--would you?”
”Do you mean,” he asked, eagerly, ”that you could give me some new facts concerning the spy--Monroe?”
”Yes, I really think I could,” she said, amiably, ”as there happen to be several things you have not been well informed upon.”
”I know it!” he said, tapping the arm of the chair, impatiently, ”they never tell me half what is going on, now!--as if I was a child! and when I ask the cursed n.i.g.g.e.rs, they lie so. Well, well, go on; tell me the latest news about this Yankee--Monroe.”
<script>