Part 13 (1/2)
He stood close to her now, and his eyes did not leave her face for an instant while she repeated the particulars of her interview with the stranger.
”And this is all--you've told me all that pa.s.sed between you?” he asked, eagerly.
”Yes, all,” she answered, pitying him, he looked so frightened, so disturbed.
Consulting his watch, he continued, ”There's time, I see, if I am expeditious, I must take the next train east though I would so much rather stay and talk with you. I shall see you again, Miss Hastings. You'll come often to Gra.s.sy Spring, won't you? I need the sight of a face like yours to keep me from going MAD.”
He wrung her hand and stepped into the hall just as one of the black women he had brought from Florida appeared.
”Aunt Phillis,” he said, ”I wish to speak with you,” and going with her to the extremity of the hall, they conversed together in low, earnest tones, as if talking of some great sorrow in which both were interested.
Once Edith heard Aunt Phillis say, ”Blessed lamb, that I've done toted so many tunes in these old arms. Go, Ma.r.s.er Arthur; never you mind old Phillis, she'll get on somehow. Mebby the young lady in thar kin show me the things and tell me the names of yer Yankee gimcracks.”
”I have no doubt she will,” returned Arthur, adding something in a whisper which Edith could not hear.
A moment more and Arthur pa.s.sed the door, equipped with overcoat and umbrella, and she heard his rapid steps upon the back piazza as he went towards the carriage house. Aunt Phillis now re-entered the library, curtesying low to Edith, who saw upon her old black face the trace of recent tears.
”Is Mr. St. Claire's friend very sick?” Edith ventured to ask, and instantly the round bright eyes shot at her a glance of alarm, while the negress replied, ”Dunno, misses. He keeps his 'fars mostly to hisself, and Phillis has done larnt not to pry.”
Thus rebuked, Edith arose and began to tie on her hat preparatory to leaving.
”Come in dis way a minute, Miss,” said Phillis. ”We're from Floridy, and dunno more'n the dead what to do in such a s.h.i.+ny kitchen as Marster St. Claire done keeps.”
Edith followed her to the kitchen, in which she found several dusky forms crouched before the fire, and gazing about them with a wondering look. To Edith they were exceedingly polite, and taking a seat in their midst she soon learned from a loquacious old lady, who seemed to be superannuated, that ”they were all one family, she being the grandmother, Ike and Phillis the father and mother, and 'tothers the children. We're all Ber-NARDS,” she said, ”case that was ole marster's name, but now I dunno who we does 'long to.
Some says to Marster St. Claire and some says to Miss---”
”Mother!” and Phillis bustled up to the old lady, who, uttering a loud outcry, exclaimed,
”The Lord, Phillis; you needn't done trod on my fetched corns. I warn't a gwine to tell,” and she loudly bewailed her aching foot, encased in a shoe of most wonderful make.
When the pain had partially subsided, the talkative Judy continued,
”There wasn't no sense, so I tole 'em, in 'totin' us way off here in the dead o' winter. I'se kotched a misery in my back, and got the s.h.i.+vers all over me. I'se too old any way to leave my cabin thar in Floridy, and I'd a heap sight rather of stayed and died on de old plantation. We has good times thar, me and Uncle Abe-- that's an old colored gentleman that lives jinin', and does nothin', just as I do. He lost his wife nex Christmas'll be a year; and, bein' lonesome like, he used to come over o' nights to talk about her, and tell how mizzable it was to be alone.”
”You are a widow, I presume,” said Edith, her black eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g with fun.
”Yes, chile, I'se been a widdy thirty year, an' Uncle Abe was such a well-to-do n.i.g.g.e.r, a trifle shaky in the legs, I know; but it don't matter. Marster St. Claire wouldn't part the family, he said, and nothin' to do but I must come. Uncle Abe's cabin was comfable enough, and thar was a hull chest of Rhody's things, a doin' n.o.body no good.”
Aunt Judy paused, and looked into the fire as if seeing there images of the absent Abel, while Edith regarded her intently, pressing her hands twice upon her forehead, as if trying to retain a confused, blurred idea which flitted across her mind.
”Judy,” she said, at last, ”it seems to me I must have seen YOU somewhere before, though where, I don't know.”
”Like enough, honey,” returned Judy. ”Your voice sounds mighty nateral, and them black eyes s.h.i.+ne an' glisten like some oder eyes I seen somewhar. Has you been in Floridy, chile?”
”No,” returned Edith; ”I was born in New York City, I believe.”
”Then 'taint likely we's met afore,” said Judy, ”though you do grow on me 'mazin'ly. You're the very sp.a.w.n o' somebody. Phillis, who does the young lady look like?”
Phillis, who had been rummaging the closets and cupboards, now came forward, and scrutinizing Edith's features, said, ”She favors Master Ber-nard's last wife, only she's taller and plumper.”