“All right, you can pass,” he said, returning the papers to Ben, while I sat with my face averted and my shoulders bent as if I was very decrepit. We had hardly started from the group when one of them called out—
“Stop, old lady, let us see what you have in your basket.” Knowing that the closeness of interview required by bargaining for eggs would lead to our detection, I could not repress a tremor of apprehension; but Ben instantly relieved my embarrassment by kicking my horse into a trot, and saying in a loud tone:
“Go ‘long, mammy; don’t you know the man with stars on shoulder, what give us the pass, tole us not to talk to folks that was standin’ guard?”
None of the soldiers said anything more to us and we rode on without molestation. We had scarcely gone a mile when we came to the large gate of our grove. It was standing open and strange cattle were browsing under the oaks. We looked down the long avenue, and instead of the tall white house, with its broad porch and door, distant woods, and the red evening sky beyond, were all that caught the eye. We galloped hurriedly down the avenue, and dismounted at the yard palings, a few steps in front of the ruins. Where the house had been was now a heap of ashes, that rose in little clouds as the March winds blew over them. The tall, silent chimneys stood with their mouth-like fireplaces whispering to each other of ruin and desolation, across the smouldering pile. The old cedar near the house, under whose branches I had wept, as a boy, over Lulie’s cruelty, was withered and blackened, and even the palings on which we leaned were charred to coal. A broad rock chimney showed where the kitchen had been; and the well house and dairy, which were still standing, were scorched and blackened with the heat. There was no sign of life on the premises; all was silent and still, the stables were open and the horses gone, the negro houses all deserted, and not even a dog lurked around the lot.
The very evening was full of dreariness! The sun had gone out behind a hard, red sky, against which the wind blew in fitful gusts; now with abortive blast, as if to rekindle the flame of day; now with a frightened moan, as if afraid of the approach of night. The tall trees along the river tossed and beat their long bare arms, as if they longed to break their chains of root and flee from these scenes of waste and woe. From the swaying top of one of them a solitary crow flew, with black flapping wings, cawing as he came, and perched upon the topmost bough of the old cedar, like a spirit of evil, his black feathers blown into a ruff around his neck, and his head bobbing with every note, in mockery of the desolation.
His voice broke the spell of our silence, and I turned to Ben. He was standing with one hand on the gate post, the nails whitened by pressure against the wood, and his grey eyes glowing as if there were lamps behind them.
“Gracious God! what a sight!” I said, as I leaned against the paling for support.
“Ah—h—h,” said Ben, the breath hissing through his clenched teeth, “and it’s lit up a devil’s bonfire in here it’ll take blood to put out,” and he tapped his breast, where the protrusion of a revolver could be faintly seen.
“But think, Ben, of Paning’s doing all this. A double-dyed villain! to burn the very house that has sheltered him, and insult a woman whose hospitality he has received! He here at my home, directing a too willing enemy where to pillage; his foul lips forcing their polluted touch on Carlotta’s cheek! Great Heaven! the thought drives me mad; may Infinite Justice help me to meet him once more!”