I
Fanny's First Night at Place-du-Bois.
The journey South had not been without attractions for Fanny. She hadthat consciousness so pleasing to the feminine mind of being welldressed; for her husband had been exceedingly liberal in furnishingher the means to satisfy her fancy in that regard. Moreover the changeholding out a promise of novelty, irritated her to a feebleexpectancy. The air, that came to her in puffs through the car window,was deliciously soft and mild; steeped with the rich languor of theIndian summer, that had already touched the tree tops, the slopinghill-side, and the very air, with russet and gold.
Hosmer sat beside her, curiously inattentive to his newspaper;observant of her small needs, and anticipating her timid halfexpressed wishes. Was there some mysterious power that had so soontaught the man such methods to a woman's heart, or was he not ratheron guard and schooling himself for the role which was to be acted outto the end? But as the day was approaching its close, Fanny becametired and languid; a certain mistrust was creeping into her heart withthe nearing darkness. It had grown sultry and close, and the view fromthe car window was no longer cheerful, as they whirled throughforests, gloomy with trailing moss, or sped over an unfamiliar countrywhose features were strange and held no promise of a welcome for her.
They were nearing Place-du-Bois, and Hosmer's spirits had risen almostto the point of gaiety as he began to recognize the faces of those wholoitered about the stations at which they stopped. At the Centervillestation, five miles before reaching their own, he had even gone out onthe platform to shake hands with the rather mystified agent who hadnot known of his absence. And he had waved a salute to the littleFrench priest of Centerville who stood out in the open beside hishorse, booted, spurred and all equipped for bad weather, waiting forcertain consignments which were to come with the train, and whoanswered Hosmer's greeting with a sober and uncompromising sweep ofthe hand. When the whistle sounded for Place-du-Bois, it was nearlydark. Hosmer hurried Fanny on to the platform, where stood Henry, hisclerk. There were a great many negroes loitering about, some of whomoffered him a cordial "how'dy Mr. Hosma," and pushing through wasGregoire, meeting them with the ease of a courtier, and acknowledgingHosmer's introduction of his wife, with a friendly hand shake.
"Aunt Therese sent the buggy down fur you," he said, "we had rain thismornin' and the road's putty heavy. Come this way. Mine out fur thatba'el, Mrs. Hosma, it's got molasses in. Hiurm bring that buggy ovayere."
"What's the news, Gregoire?" asked Hosmer, as they waited for Hiram toturn the horses about.
"Jus' about the same's ev'a. Miss Melicent wasn't ver' well a few daysback; but she's some betta. I reckon you're all plum wore out," headded, taking in Fanny's listless attitude, and thinking her verypretty as far as he could discover in the dim light.
They drove directly to the cottage, and on the porch Therese waswaiting for them. She took Fanny's two hands and pressed them warmlybetween her own; then led her into the house with an arm passed abouther waist. She shook hands with Hosmer, and stood for a while incheerful conversation, before leaving them.
The cottage was fully equipped for their reception, with Minervy inpossession of the kitchen and the formerly reluctant Suze ashousemaid: though Therese had been silent as to the methods which shehad employed to prevail with these unwilling damsels.
Hosmer then went out to look after their baggage, and when hereturned, Fanny sat with her head pillowed on the sofa, sobbingbitterly. He knelt beside her, putting his arm around her, and askedthe cause of her distress.
"Oh it's so lonesome, and dreadful, I don't believe I can stand it,"she answered haltingly through her tears.
And here was he thinking it was so home-like and comforting, andtasting the first joy that he had known since he had gone away.
"It's all strange and new to you, Fanny; try to bear up for a day ortwo. Come now, don't be a baby--take courage. It will all seem quitedifferent by and by, when the sun shines."
A knock at the door was followed by the entrance of a young coloredboy carrying an armful of wood.
"Miss T'rese sont me kin'le fiar fu' Miss Hosma; 'low he tu'nin'cole," he said depositing his load on the hearth; and Fanny, dryingher eyes, turned to watch him at his work.
He went very deliberately about it, tearing off thin slathers from thefat pine, and arranging them into a light frame-work, beneath atopping of kindling and logs that he placed on the massive brassandirons. He crawled about on hands and knees, picking up the straybits of chips and moss that had fallen from his arms when he came in.Then sitting back on his heels he looked meditatively into the blazewhich he had kindled and scratched his nose with a splinter of pinewood. When Hosmer presently left the room, he rolled his big blackeyes towards Fanny, without turning his head, and remarked in a toneplainly inviting conversation "yo' all come f'om way yonda?"
He was intensely black, and if Fanny had been a woman with theslightest sense of humor, she could not but have been amused at thepicture which he presented in the revealing fire-light with his elfishand ape like body much too small to fill out the tattered andill-fitting garments that hung about it. But she only wondered at himand his rags, and at his motive for addressing her.
"We're come from St. Louis," she replied, taking him with aseriousness which in no wise daunted him.
"Yo' all brung de rain," he went on sociably, leaving off thescratching of his nose, to pass his black yellow-palmed hand slowlythrough the now raging fire, a feat which filled her withconsternation. After prevailing upon him to desist from thissalamander like exhibition, she was moved to ask if he were not verypoor to be thus shabbily clad.
"No 'um," he laughed, "I got some sto' close yonda home. Dis yere coatw'at Mista Gregor gi'me," looking critically down at its length, whichswept the floor as he remained on his knees. "He done all to'e tupieces time he gi' him tu me, whar he scuffle wid Jocint yonda tu demill. Mammy 'low she gwine mek him de same like new w'en she kin kotchde time."
The entrance of Minervy bearing a tray temptingly arranged with adainty supper, served to silence the boy, who at seeing her, threwhimself upon all fours and appeared to be busy with the fire. Thewoman, a big raw-boned field hand, set her burden awkwardly down on atable, and after staring comprehensively around, addressed the boy ina low rich voice, "Dar ain't no mo' call to bodda wid dat fiar, youSampson; how come Miss T'rese sont you lazy piece in yere tu buil'fiar?"
"Don' know how come," he replied, vanishing with an air of the utmostself-depreciation.
Hosmer and Fanny took tea together before the cheerful fire and hetold her something of methods on the plantation, and made her furtheracquainted with the various people whom she had thus far encountered.She listened apathetically; taking little interest in what he said,and asking few questions. She did express a little bewilderment at theservant problem. Mrs. Lafirme, during their short conversation, haddeplored her inability to procure more than two servants for her; andFanny could not understand why it should require so many to do thework which at home was accomplished by one. But she was tired--verytired, and early sought her bed, and Hosmer went in quest of hissister whom he had not yet seen.
Melicent had been told of his marriage some days previously, and hadbeen thrown into such a state of nerves by the intelligence, as toseriously alarm those who surrounded her and whose experience withhysterical girls had been inadequate.
Poor Gregoire had betaken himself with the speed of the wind to thestore to procure bromide, valerian, and whatever else should bethought available in prevailing with a malady of this distressingnature. But she was "some betta," as he told Hosmer, who found herwalking in the darkness of one of the long verandas, all enveloped infilmy white wool. He was a little prepared for a cool reception fromher, and ten minutes before she might have received him with a studiedindifference. But her mood had veered about and touched the pointwhich moved her to fall upon his neck, and in a manner, condole withhim; seasoning her sympathy with a few tears.
"Whatever possessed you, David
? I have been thinking, and thinking,and I can see no reason which should have driven you to do this thing.Of course I can't meet her; you surely don't expect it?"
He took her arm and joined her in her slow walk.
"Yes, I do expect it, Melicent, and if you have the least regard forme, I expect more. I want you to be good to her, and patient, and showyourself her friend. No one can do such things more amiably than you,when you try."
"But David, I had hoped for something so different."
"You couldn't have expected me to marry Mrs. Lafirme, a Catholic," hesaid, making no pretense of misunderstanding her.
"I think that woman would have given up religion--anything for you."
"Then you don't know her, little sister."
It must have been far in the night when Fanny awoke suddenly. Shecould not have told whether she had been awakened by the long, wailingcry of a traveler across the narrow river, vainly trying to rouse theferryman; or the creaking of a heavy wagon that labored slowly by inthe road and moved Hector to noisy enquiry. Was it not rather thepattering rain that the wind was driving against the window panes? Thelamp burned dimly upon the high old-fashioned mantel-piece and herhusband had thoughtfully placed an improvised screen before it, toprotect her against its disturbance. He himself was not beside her,nor was he in the room. She slid from her bed and moved softly on herbare feet over to the open sitting-room door.
The fire had all burned away. Only the embers lay in a glowing heap,and while she looked, the last stick that lay across the andirons,broke through its tapering center and fell amongst them, stirring afitful light by which she discovered her husband seated and bowed likea man who has been stricken. Uncomprehending, she stood a momentspeechless, then crept back noiselessly to bed.