The great trunk in the storeroom that Aunt Catharine went through religiously once a year, to see that no corrupting influences, such as moth or rust, should gain surreptitious entrance, was to be opened now, and Jaqueline's portion of her dead mother's treasures bestowed upon her. Aunt Catharine had divided them as equally as possible, and done them up in separate parcels for each girl. In her early married life Mrs. Mason had made a visit to Paris, while Franklin was still abroad. There had been a sojourn in London as well, and she had brought home enough to last her brief life and to descend to her children. Mrs. Conway specified which gowns should be refashioned a little for her niece and what of her mother's jewels it would be proper for her to wear. Jaqueline would fain have confiscated all.
"Do as your aunt advises," said her father, with a sound of authority in his tone not to be gainsaid. "She was always a woman of good sense until she took up with those ultra views of religion, and Conway. She was so settled in her ways, too, that no one would have dreamed it, either; but there's no telling what a woman will do until she's past doing. And it's natural for them to marry. But Catharine could have had her pick in her youth. She held her head mighty high then."
There was no little confusion getting the two young people ready. Louis brushed up some studies with Mr. Evans, for his summer had been one of careless fun and good-fellowship with the neighboring young men. Still, he was ambitious to stand well and not drop behind his last year's record. Then they had to go up and bid grandmother good-by, and there were neighborhood gatherings quite as important as if these young people were going to the unexplored wilds of Africa.
Their departure made a sudden hiatus. With so many people in the house and on the plantation, it did not seem as if two could be so sincerely regretted. Every slave, from Homer down to the rollicking pickaninnies, bemoaned "Mas'r Louis"; and Mammy Phil, who had nursed every one of the "chillens," had a double dose of sorrow, and so many reminiscences that Patricia was provoked.
"As if there were never any children in the world but Louis and Jaqueline!" she flung out with some vexation. "Mammy, you wouldn't make as much fuss if I was going to be buried."
"'Fore de Lord, chile, dat would break Mammy's heart cl'ar in two! You can't 'member how de joy went roun' in all de cabins when young mas'r had a son born to be de heir. Why de 'clar' o' peace wan't nuffin to it!"
"I shouldn't think I could remember that!" said the girl, with great dignity and a withering accent, "seeing as I was not in the rejoicing. You are getting old and doted, mammy!"
The old slave woman wiped her eyes. But to her comfort she had found a delightful listener in little Annis, who never wearied of the family legends, and who studied the portraits in the great drawing room with a mysterious sort of awe. There was a cavalier of the times of the first Charles, with his slashed doublet, his Vandyke collar and cuffs of what had been snowy linen and elegant lace, and his picturesque hat with its long plume: a sharp-featured, handsome face in spite of a certain languid indifference. There was another in a suit of green camlet, richly laced, and the great periwig of close-curled rings. The hand, almost covered with costly lace ruffles, rested lightly on the jeweled hilt of the rapier that hung at his side. There were two plainer men: one suggestive of Puritan times; one, round, rosy, quite modern in the half-Continental costume, that one would easily guess was the squire in his youth. Beside it was Mistress Mason in her wedding gown of satin trimmed with a perfect cloud of Venice point, a stomacher set with precious stones, and a brocaded petticoat. Like a soft mist a veil floated about her exquisite shoulders, fastened at the top with a diamond clasp. There was the beauty of the Verneys and the Carringtons in her face.
"That is our own mother," said Varina as she was showing Annis the ancestors of the house. "She is a great deal handsomer than your mother, and yours has no such fine gowns. This has been laid away, and we shall all wear it as a wedding gown when our turn comes. Aunt Catharine said once there was a fortune in the lace. Has your mother nothing?"
"She has a string of pearls and some beautiful rings, but I have never seen any gowns."