Not long after, from the musicians’ bower the sound of Home, Sweet Home drifted over the poignant rose-scent, and presently the driveway resounded to rolling wheels and the voices of negro drivers, and the house-entrance jostled with groups, muffled in loose carriage-wraps, silken cloaks and light overcoats, calling tired but laughing farewells.
Katharine, on the step, found herself looking into Valiant’s eyes. “How can I tell you how much I have enjoyed it all?” she said. “I’ve stayed till the very last minute—which is something for one’s fourth season! And now, good-by, for we are off to-morrow for Hot Springs.” Her face may have been a little worn, a trifle hard under the emerald-tinted eyes, but her smile seemed friendly and unclouded.
Her father had long ago betaken himself homeward, and the big three-seated surrey—holding “six comf’table and nine fumiliah,” in the phrase of Lige the coachman—had returned for the rest: Judge Chalmers, the two younger girls and Shirley. Katharine greeted the latter with a charming smile. What more natural than that she should find herself straightway on the rear seat with royalty? The two girls safely disposed in the middle, the judge climbed up beside the driver, who cracked his whip and they were off.
The way was not long, and Katharine had need of despatch if that revengeful weapon were to be used which fate had put into her hands. She wasted little time.
“It seems so strange,” she said, “to find our host in such surroundings! I can scarcely believe him the same John Valiant I’ve danced with a hundred times in New York. He’s been here such a short while and yet he couldn’t possibly be more at home if he’d lived in Virginia always. And you all treat him as if he were quite one of yourselves.”
Shirley smiled enchantingly. “Why, yes,” she said, “maybe it seems odd to outsiders. But, you see, with us a Valiant is always a Valiant. No matter where he has lived, he’s the son of his father and the master of Damory Court.”
“That’s the wonderful part of it. It’s so—so English, somehow.”
“Is it?” said Shirley. “I never thought of it. But perhaps it seems so. We have the old houses and the old names and think of them, no doubt, in the same way.”
“What a sad life his father had!” pursued Katharine dreamily. “You know all about the duel, of course?”
Shirley shrank imperceptibly now. The subject touched Valiant so closely it seemed almost as if it belonged to him and to her alone—not a thing to be flippantly touched on. “Yes,” she said somewhat slowly, “every one here knows of it.”