"Of course no one hears, but it is best never to allow yourself the habit of referring to family or personal affairs. Even though we speak a language not generally understood in this country, do not--even to me--speak of your race. I know all, understand it all, without words; and, for the people we have met, they do not doubt you are a San Domingo Creole. You must be careful lest they think differently."

"You are right; what a fool I am! My tongue ever runs ahead of my wit.

Marquise, sometimes I laugh when I remember how capable I thought myself on leaving Paris, what great things I was to do--I!" and she shrugged her plump shoulders in self derision. "Why, I should have been discovered a dozen times had I depended on my own wit. I am a good enough orderly, but only under a capable general," and she made a smiling courtesy to the Marquise.

"Chatterbox! If I am the general of your distinguished selection, I shall issue an order at once for your immediate retirement."

"Oh, Marquise!"

"To bed," concluded her mistress, gayly, "go; I shall not need you. I have work to do."

The girl first unlaced the dark boots and subst.i.tuted a pair of soft pink slippers, and touched her cheek to the slender foot.

"I shall envy the maid who does even that for you when I am gone," she said, softly. "Now, good rest to you, my general, and pleasant dreams."

"Thanks; but my dreams are never formidable nor important," was the teasing reply as the maid vanished. The careless smile gave way to a quick sigh of relief as the door closed. She arose and walked back and forth across the room with nervous, rapid steps, her hands clasped back of her head and the wide sleeves of the robe slipped back, showing the perfect arms. She seemed a trifle taller than when in Paris that first springtime, and the open robe revealed a figure statuesque, perfect as a sculptor's ideal, yet without the statue's coldness; for the uncovered throat and bosom held delicious dimples where the robe fell apart and was swept aside by her restless movements.

But her own appearance was evidently far from her thoughts at that moment. Several of Mrs. McVeigh's very affectionate words and glances had recurred to her and brought her a momentary restlessness. It was utterly absurd that it should be so, especially when she had encouraged the fondness, and meant to continue doing so. But she had not counted on being susceptible to the same feeling for Kenneth McVeigh's mother--yet she had come very near it, and felt it necessary to lay down the limits as to just how far she would allow such a fondness to lead her.

And the fact that she was in the home of her one-time lover gave rise to other complex fancies. How would they meet if chance should send him there during her stay? He had had time for many more such boyish fancies since those days, and back of them all was the home sweetheart she heard spoken of so often--Gertrude Loring.

How very, very long ago it seemed since the meetings at Fontainbleau; what an impulsive fool she had been, and how childish it all seemed now!

But Judithe de Caron told herself she was not the sort of person to allow memories of bygone sentiment to interfere for long with practical affairs. She drew up a chair to the little stand by the window and plunged into the work she had spoken of, and for an hour her pen moved rapidly over the paper until page after page was laid aside.

But after the last bit of memoranda was completed she leaned back, looking out into the blue mists of the night--across his lands luxuriant in all the beauty of summer time and moonlight, the fields over which he had ridden, the trees under which he had walked, with, perhaps, an occasional angry thought of her--never dreaming that she, also, would walk there some day.

"But to think that I _am_ actually here--here above all!" she murmured softly. "Maman, once I said I would be Judithe indeed to that man if he was ever delivered into my hands. Yet, when he came I ran away from him--ran away because I was afraid of him! But now--"

Her beautiful eyes half closed in a smile not mirthful, and the sentence was left unfinished.

CHAPTER XVIII.

What embraces, e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns and caresses, when Evilena, accompanied by Pluto and the delighted Raquel, arrived at the Terrace next morning!

Judithe, who saw from the veranda the rapturous meeting of mother and daughter, sighed, a quick, impatient catching of the breath, and turned to enter the library through the open French windows.

Reconsidering her intention, she halted, and waited at the head of the broad steps where Kenneth's sister saw her for the first time and came to her with a pleased, half shy greeting, and where Kenneth's mother slipped one arm around each as they entered the house, and between the two she felt welcomed into the very heart of the McVeigh family feminine.

"Oh, and mama!"--thus exclaimed Evilena as she was comfortably ensconced in the same chair with that lady--"there is so much news to tell you I don't know where to begin. But Gertrude sends love--please don't go, Madame Caron--I am only going to talk about the neighbors.

And they are all coming over very soon, and the best of all is, Gertrude has at last coaxed Uncle Matthew (a roguish grimace at the t.i.tle) to give up Loringwood entirely and come to the Pines. And Dr.

Delaven--he's delightful, mama, when he isn't teasing folks--he strongly advises them to make the change soon; and, oh, won't you ask them all over for a few weeks until the Pines is ready? And did you hear about two of their field hands running off? Well, they did. Scip and Aleck; isn't it too bad? and Mr. Loring doesn't know it yet, no one dares tell him; and Masterson's Cynthia had a boy run off, too, and went to the Yankees, they suppose. And old Nelse he got scared sick at a ghost last night while they were 'possum hunting. And, oh, mama, have you heard from Ken?--not a word has come here, and he never even saw Gertrude over there. He must be powerful busy if he could not stop long enough to hunt friends up and say 'howdy.'"

"Lena, Lena, child!" and the mother sank back in her chair, laughing.

"Have they enforced some silent system of existence on you since I have been down at Mobile? I declare, you fairly make my head swim with your torrent of news and questions. Judithe, does not this young lady fulfill the foreign idea of the American girl--a combination of the exclamation and interrogation point?"

Evilena stopped further criticism by kisses.

"I will be good as goodness rather than have Madame Caron make up her mind I am silly the very first day," she promised, "but, oh, mama, it _is_ so good to have you to talk to, and so delightful of Madame to come with you"--this with a swift, admiring side glance at their visitor--"and, altogether, I'm just in love with the world today."

Later she informed them that Judge Clarkson would probably drive over that evening, as he was going to Columbia or Savannah--she had forgotten which--and had to go home first. He would have come with her but for a business talk he wanted to have, if Mr. Loring was able, this morning.

"Gertrude coaxed him to stop over and settle something about selling Loringwood. She's just grieving over the wreck and ruin there, and Mr.

Loring never will be able to manage it again. They've been offered a lot of money for it by some Orleans people, and Gertrude wants it settled. Aunt Sajane is going to stay until they all come to the Pines."

"If Judge Clarkson should be going to Savannah you could send your maid in his charge, since she is determined to leave us," suggested Mrs. McVeigh.

"She would, no doubt, be delighted to go under such escort," said Judithe, "but her arrangements are made to start early in the morning; it is not likely your friend would be leaving so soon. Then, mademoiselle has said she is not sure but that it is to some other place he goes."

"Columbia?--yes; and more than likely it _is_ Columbia," a.s.sented Mrs.

McVeigh. "He is there a great deal during these troublous times."

A slight sigh accompanied the words, and Judithe noticed, as she had done often before, the lack of complaint or bewailings of the disasters so appalling to the South, for even the victories were so dearly bought. There was an intense eagerness for news from the front, and when it was read, the tears were silent ones. The women smiled bravely and were sure of victory in the end. Their faith in their men was adorable.

Evilena undertook to show the Marquise around the Terrace, eagerly anxious to become better acquainted with the stranger whose beauty had won her quite as quickly as it had won her brother. Looking at her, and listening to the soft tones with the delicious accent of France, she wondered if Ken had ever really dared to fall in love with this star from a foreign sky, or if Dr. Delaven had only been teasing her.

Of course one could not help the loving; but brave as she believed Ken to be, she wondered if he had ever dared even whisper of it to Judithe, Marquise de Caron; for she refused to think of her as simply Madame Caron even though she did have to say it. The courtesy shown to her own democratic country by the disclaiming of t.i.tles was altogether thrown away on Evilena, and she comforted herself by whispering softly the given name _Zhu-dette--Zhudette_, delighted to find that the French could make of the stately name a musical one as well.

Raquel came breathlessly to them on the lawn with the information that "Mistress McVeigh ast them to please come in de house right off case that maid lady, Miss Weesa, she done slip on stairs an' hurt her foot powerful."

"Thanks, yes; I will come at once," said Miss Weesa's mistress in so clear and even a tone that Evilena, who was startled at the news, was oppressed by a sudden fear that all the warmth in the nature of her fascinating Marquise was centered in the luminous golden brown eyes.

As Judithe followed the servant into the house there came a swift remembrance of those lamentable presentiments. Was there, after all, something in the blood akin to the prescience through which birds and wild things scent the coming storms?--some atavism outgrown by the people of intellectual advancement, but yet a power to the children of the near sun?

Miss Louisa's foot certainly was hurt; it had been twisted by a fall on the stairs, and the ankle refused to bear the weight; the attempt to step on it caused her such agony that she had called for help, and the entire household had responded.

It was Pluto who reached her first, lifting her in his arms and carrying her to a bed. She had almost fainted from pain or fright, and when she opened her eyes again it was to meet those of her mistress in one wild appeal. Pluto had not moved after placing her on the bed, though the other darkies had retired into the hall, and Judithe's first impression of the scene was the huge black eyes fairly devouring the girl's face with his curious gaze. He stepped back as Mrs. McVeigh entered with camphor and bandages, but he saw that pleading, frightened glance.

"Never mind, Louise, it will all be well," said her mistress, soothingly; "this has happened before," she added, turning to Mrs.

McVeigh. "It needs stout bandages and perfect rest; in a week it will be forgotten."

"A week!"--moaned the girl with pale lips, "but tomorrow--I _must_ go tomorrow!"

"Patience, patience! You shall so soon as you are able, Louise, and the less you fret the sooner that may be."

Judithe herself knelt by the bed and removed tenderly the coquettish shoe of soft kid, and, to the horror of the a.s.sembled maids at the door, deliberately cut off the silk stocking, over which their wonder had been aroused when the short skirts of Louise had made visible those superfine articles. The pieces of stocking, needless to say, were captured as souvenirs and for many a day shown to the scoffers of neighboring plantations, who doubted the wild tales of luxury ascribed to the foreign magnate whose servants were even dressed like sure enough ladies.

"We must bandage it to keep down the swelling," said Judithe, working deftly as she spoke; "it happened once in New Orleans--this, and though painful, is not really serious, but she is so eager to commence the refurnishing of the yacht that she laments even a day's delay."

Louise did not speak again--only showed by a look her comprehension of the statement, and bore patiently the binding of the ankle.

It was three days before she could move about the room with help of a cane, and during those days of feverish anxiety her mistress had an opportunity to observe the very pointed and musical interest Pluto showed in the invalid whose language he could not speak. He was seldom out of hearing or her call and was plainly disturbed when word came from Loringwood that the folks would all be over in a few days.

He even ventured to ask Evilena if Mr. Loring's eyesight hadn't failed some since his long sickness, and was well satisfied, apparently, by an affirmative reply. He even went so far as to give Louise a slight warning, which she repeated to her mistress one day after the Judge and Delaven had called, and Louise had promptly gone to bed and to sleep, professing herself too well now for a doctor's attention.

"Pluto is either trying to lay a trap for me to see if I do know English, or else he is better informed than we guess--which it is, I cannot say, Marquise," she confided, nervously. "When he heard his mistress say I was to start Thursday, he watched his chance and whispered: 'Go Wednesday--don't wait till visitors come, go Wednesday.'"

"Visitors?--then he means the Lorings, they are to be here Thursday,"

and Judithe closed the book she had been reading, and looked thoughtfully out of the window. Louise was moving about the room with the aid of a cane, glancing at her mistress now and then and waiting to hear her opinion.