"Ef 'twarn't fur him, yer Pa could come up yere an' smoke a seegar an' talk, an' Miss Leonora an' de ladies mought play kyerds wid dee wunst in a while, wid dem blinds kept closed."
"He isn't such an awful Tartar, is he, Uncle Ephraim?" said Julius, plaintively, allured by this picture. "Wouldn't he wink at it, if he missed them or heard voices, or caught a suspicion of my being here? They have been so good to him—and I am doing nothing aggressive—only visiting the family."
"Lawsy—Lawsy—Lawsy-massy, no! No!" cried Uncle Ephraim, in extreme agitation and with the utmost emphasis of negation. "Dat man is afflicted wid a powerful oneasy conscience, Marse Julius!"
And he detailed with the most convincing and graphic diction the disaster that had befallen the too-confiding Acrobat.
Julius was very definitely impressed with the imminence of his peril. "The son of Belial!" he exclaimed in dismay.
"Naw sah,—dat ain't his daddy's Christian name," said Uncle Ephraim, ingenuously. "'Tain't Benial!—dough it's mighty nigh ez comical. Hit's 'Fluellen'—same ez dis man's. I hearn ole Marster call it—but what you laffin' at? Dee bed better come out'n dat duck-fit! Folks can hear ye giggling plumb down ter de Big Gate!"
He was constrained to take himself downstairs presently, lest he be missed, although longing to continue his discourse. His caution in his departure, his crafty listening for sounds from below before he would trust his foot to the stair, his swift, gliding transit to the more accustomed region of the second story, the art he expended in concealing in a dust cloth the bowl in which he had conveyed "the forage," as Julius called it—all were eminently reassuring to the man who stood in such imminent peril for a casual whim as he gazed after "the raven's" flight.
Solitary, silent, isolated, the day became intolerably dull to the young soldier as it wore on. He dared not absorb himself in a book, although there were many old magazines in a case which stood near the stairs, for thus he might fail to note an approach. Once he heard the treble babble of two of the "ladies" and the strange, infrequent harsh tone of the deaf-mute, and he paused to murmur, "Bless their dear little souls!" with a tender smile on his face. And suddenly, his attention still bent upon the region below stairs, so unconscious of his presence above, there came to him the full, mellow sound of a stranger's voice, a well-bred, decorous voice with a conventional but pleasant laugh; and then, both in the hallway now, Leonora's drawling contralto, with its cantabile effects, her speech seeming more beautiful than the singing of other women. The front door closed with a bang, and Julius realized that they had gone forth together. He stood in vague wonderment and displeasure. Was it possible, he asked himself, that she really received this man's attentions, appeared publicly in his company, accepted his escort? Then, to assure himself, he sprang to the window and looked out upon the grove.
There was the graceful figure of his dreams in her plain black bombazine dress worn without the slightest challenge to favor, the black crape veil floating backward from the ethereally fair face, the glittering gold-flecked brown hair beneath the white ruche, called the "widow's cap," in the edge of her bonnet. Her fine gray eyes were cast toward the house with a languid smile as the "ladies" tapped on the pane of the library window and signed farewell. Beside her Julius scanned a tall, well-set-up man in a blue uniform and the insignia of a captain of artillery, with blond hair and beard, a grave, handsome face, a dignified manner, a presence implying many worldly and social values.
This walk was an occasion of moment to Baynell. The opportunity had arisen in the simplest manner.