Hereward, left alone, pressed his hands to his head.
“Am I dreaming?” he asked himself. “Is this one of those delirious visions that tortured or delighted me during the progress of my fever? Lilith—not dead? Lilith living? Oh, Heaven! can such a happiness be really still possible to me, that I should see Lilith again in the flesh? Oh, Heaven! that this could come to pass! All evils of life would be nothing if only Lilith could, peradventure, be restored to me living. I would no longer care for all the fame and glory that this world could give me, if only my child-wife could be returned to me! But can this be possible? What balance of proof is there in favor of her continued life, in the face of the verdict of that coroner’s jury? I do not know; I cannot weigh evidence to-day! I am weak! I am weak! Kerr will be here soon. I will ask him what he thinks about the matter. I will tell him all and I will take his opinion.”
As Hereward communed with himself in this manner the door opened, and Mrs. Jab Jordon came out on the piazza, bringing in her hands a silver waiter upon which was arranged a china plate of chicken jelly, another plate of delicate biscuits, a small decanter of port wine, and a wine glass.
She set the waiter with its contents upon the little stand beside Hereward’s chair, and then, looking at the invalid critically, she inquired:
“What is the matter with you? You have been worrying and exciting yourself about something. And you know that is not good for you. Come, now, I want you to eat all this jelly and drink at least two glasses of wine, and then, as the sun is coming around this way and it is getting warm, I want you to come in and take your noon sleep.”
Hereward smiled faintly and tried obediently to do as the lady bade him; but it is doubtful whether he would have accomplished the task before him had not Mrs. Jab drawn up a chair and drilled him into compliance.
When he had finished his light meal she took his arm and led him into the house and upstairs to the new room that had been prepared for him, and made him lie down on his bed.
Meanwhile, old Adah had gone into the kitchen, where she found Nancy superintending the preparations for dinner, while Cassy and the two younger negro women were engaged in paring potatoes, shelling peas, and capping strawberries.
“Mornin’, chillun! How does all do dis fine mornin’?” said the old woman, as she slowly and stiffly lowered herself into the nearest chair and laid her stick on the floor.
“Mornin’, Aunt Adah!” returned a chorus of voices, as the three women stopped their work and came around her.