The Haunted Homestead: A Novel

by Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth

Valentine was in almost every respect the antipodes of his master, yet resembled him in this, that his nature also might be easily read in his dark but singularly beautiful face. I use the term "beautiful" instead of the other term "handsome" advisedly, as more proper to the subject under description. Valentine was rather below the medium height, and slightly but elegantly formed, with a stately little head, delicate aquiline features, a complexion dark as a Spaniard's, bluish-black hair falling in many well-trained curls around the dark face, and light-blue eyes so deeply veiled under their thicket of long, close lashes, that it was only in moments of excitement, when they suddenly lightened, that their strange, startling, almost terrible contrast to the blackness of the hair and darkness of the skin could be noticed. In the matter of dress, Valentine was fastidious to a degree. In other circumstances, he might have been an exquisite and a petit maitre, as his master often laughingly called him. As it was, the youth was undeniably a dandy; but his love of dress was to be attributed fully as much to his innate love of order, beauty, and propriety, as to his coxcombry. His fine raven-black hair—his "favorite vanity," was carefully kept, and trained to fall in those faultless ringlets; and it is upon record, that when the owner was not in full dress, that "splendid head of hair" was carefully bound down from injury by sun or dust, under a double silk bandanna, arranged in the graceful folds and twists of a Turkish turban. Valentine's "foppery" was a never-failing source of merriment to his fun-loving master—though I think the boy's love of dress could scarcely with fairness be called foppery, since he was never known to try the effects of his most elegant toilet upon the hearts of any of the young girls of his class, until his own heart was seriously engaged. Valentine's deportment was characterized by habitual pensiveness and reserve, occasionally broken by sudden unaccountable fits of excitement, strange flights of fancy, and startling, frightful paroxysms of passion, having many of the features of incipient insanity. These were undoubtedly to be attributed to the antagonistic constituents of his nature. What alchemy but the all-powerful grace of God could ever harmonize the discordant elements of a being deriving his descent from three races so different as the Indian, the Negro, and the Saxon, and reconcile him to the position in which this boy was placed?

Mr. Waring, soon after his return home, began to lead a wild, reckless life. He kept bachelor's hall at Red Hill, in extravagant style.

Frequent dinners, suppers, and wine parties, with cards, billiards, dice, etc., converted the quiet old country house into a scene of wild midnight orgies, with drinking, song-singing, and gambling, that threatened soon to leave the young spendthrift without a house to revel in, or a dollar to revel on.

And almost every day, when there was not a party at the house, Valentine would have to drive his master in the buggy to the town. Upon such occasions, the master would go to some favorite restaurant or billiard saloon, or perhaps to some wine or card party, to which he had been invited, while the man would take the buggy to the livery stable, and lounge about town until the small hours of the morning, when he would rouse the sleepy groom at the stables, get his buggy and horse, and take his master home. Sometimes Mr. Waring would be slightly elevated by the wine he had drank, but never to the degree of intoxication.

At first, and for a long while, Valentine resisted the temptations of the life into which he was led; but, in the course of time, those listless hours of waiting in town wore away his good habits; and it at last happened that, while the master was gambling and drinking in some splendid saloon, the man would be imitating him in some humbler scene of dissipation. And when he would have to drive Mr. Waring home, it not unfrequently happened that both were under the influence of wine.

To poor Phædra, who happily had some time since found that grace of God that she had so long and humbly and earnestly desired, this conduct in her young master and her son gave the greatest distress and anxiety. With Valentine she often and earnestly expostulated; and the impressible boy, for boy he continued to be to the day of his death, would promise with tears in his eyes, to amend. Even with Oswald Waring, using the privilege of the old nurse, she ventured to reason, faithfully, fearlessly, sorrowfully.

But, in his thoughtless, good-humored way, he laughed in her face, called her a well-meaning old woman, but advised her to attend to her own concerns.

Yet Phædra did not slacken in making what poor opposition she could to the approach of ruin.

It was not the least deplorable and dangerous feature in the mutual relations of Oswald Waring and his favorite slave that their mutual positions often seemed temporarily reversed. Valentine would, upon occasions, seem, or really for the hour be, the leader, and Oswald the follower.

Unfortunately, Mr. Waring was singularly wanting in those qualities that command habitual respect from inferiors; nay, he even lacked self-respect and the dignity that it gives; while, more unhappily still, his servant Valentine possessed a large share of self-esteem, that, in his excitable nature, would, under provocation or temptation, rise to insufferable insolence. And this frequently placed them in false and trying attitudes toward each other. It was a baleful circumstance, too, that when, under the effects of wine, the master fell from easy good-nature into maudlin tenderness and sentimentality, varied by eccentric impulses of domineering authority, all of which was extremely distasteful and irritating to the servant, whose pride, instigated by the like baleful spirit, would rise to an intolerable arrogance. It was a situation full of dire bodency to both.