betaken himself with the speed of the wind to the
store to procure bromide, valerian, and whatever else should be
thought available in prevailing with a malady of this distressing
nature. But she was "some betta," as he told Hosmer, who found her
walking in the darkness of one of the long verandas, all enveloped in
filmy white wool. He was a little prepared for a cool reception from
her, and ten minutes before she might have received him with a studied
indifference. But her mood had veered about and touched the point
which moved her to fall upon his neck, and in a manner, condole with
him; 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 for
me, I expect more. I want you to be good to her, and patient, and show
yourself 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," he
said, 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. She
could not have told whether she had been awakened by the long, wailing
cry of a traveler across the narrow river, vainly trying to rouse the
ferryman; or the creaking of a heavy wagon that labored slowly by in
the road and moved Hector to noisy enquiry. Was it not rather the
pattering rain that the wind was driving against the window panes? The
lamp burned dimly upon the high old-fashioned mantel-piece and her
husband had thoughtfully placed an improvised screen before it, to
protect 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 her
bare 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 a
fitful light by which she discovered her husband seated and bowed like
a man who has been stricken. Uncomprehending, she stood a moment
speechless, then crept back noiselessly to bed.
II - "Neva to See You!"
*
Thérèse judged it best to leave Fanny a good deal to herself during
her first days on the plantation, without relinquishing a certain
watchful supervision of her comfort, and looking in on her for a few
moments each day. The rain which had come with them continued fitfully
and Fanny remained in doors, clad in a warm handsome gown, her small
slippered feet cushioned before the fire, and reading the latest novel
of one of those prolific female writers who turn out their unwholesome
intellectual sweets so tirelessly, to be devoured by the girls and
women of the age.
Melicent, who always did the unexpected, crossed over early on the
morning after Fanny's arrival; penetrated to her sleeping room and
embraced her effusively, even as she lay in bed, calling her "poor
dear Fanny" and cautioning her against getting up on such a morning.
The tears which had come to Fanny on arriving, and which had dried on
her cheek when she turned to gaze into the cheer of the great wood
fire, did not return. Everybody seemed to be making much of her, which
was a new experience in her life; she having always felt herself as of
little consequence, and in a manner, overlooked. The negroes were
overawed at the splendor of her toilettes and showed a respect for her
in proportion to the money value which these toilettes reflected. Each
morning Grégoire left at her door his compliments with a huge bouquet
of brilliant and many colored crysanthemums, and
store to procure bromide, valerian, and whatever else should be
thought available in prevailing with a malady of this distressing
nature. But she was "some betta," as he told Hosmer, who found her
walking in the darkness of one of the long verandas, all enveloped in
filmy white wool. He was a little prepared for a cool reception from
her, and ten minutes before she might have received him with a studied
indifference. But her mood had veered about and touched the point
which moved her to fall upon his neck, and in a manner, condole with
him; 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 for
me, I expect more. I want you to be good to her, and patient, and show
yourself 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," he
said, 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. She
could not have told whether she had been awakened by the long, wailing
cry of a traveler across the narrow river, vainly trying to rouse the
ferryman; or the creaking of a heavy wagon that labored slowly by in
the road and moved Hector to noisy enquiry. Was it not rather the
pattering rain that the wind was driving against the window panes? The
lamp burned dimly upon the high old-fashioned mantel-piece and her
husband had thoughtfully placed an improvised screen before it, to
protect 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 her
bare 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 a
fitful light by which she discovered her husband seated and bowed like
a man who has been stricken. Uncomprehending, she stood a moment
speechless, then crept back noiselessly to bed.
II - "Neva to See You!"
*
Thérèse judged it best to leave Fanny a good deal to herself during
her first days on the plantation, without relinquishing a certain
watchful supervision of her comfort, and looking in on her for a few
moments each day. The rain which had come with them continued fitfully
and Fanny remained in doors, clad in a warm handsome gown, her small
slippered feet cushioned before the fire, and reading the latest novel
of one of those prolific female writers who turn out their unwholesome
intellectual sweets so tirelessly, to be devoured by the girls and
women of the age.
Melicent, who always did the unexpected, crossed over early on the
morning after Fanny's arrival; penetrated to her sleeping room and
embraced her effusively, even as she lay in bed, calling her "poor
dear Fanny" and cautioning her against getting up on such a morning.
The tears which had come to Fanny on arriving, and which had dried on
her cheek when she turned to gaze into the cheer of the great wood
fire, did not return. Everybody seemed to be making much of her, which
was a new experience in her life; she having always felt herself as of
little consequence, and in a manner, overlooked. The negroes were
overawed at the splendor of her toilettes and showed a respect for her
in proportion to the money value which these toilettes reflected. Each
morning Grégoire left at her door his compliments with a huge bouquet
of brilliant and many colored crysanthemums, and
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