He bowed when he caught sight of the mistress of the Terrace, who bestowed on him a quaint courtesy such as the good nuns of Orleans taught their pupils thirty years before, she also extended her hand, which he kissed––an addition to fine manners the nuns had omitted––probably they knew how superfluous such training would be, all Southern girls being possessed of that knowledge by right of birth.
“Good morning, Judge.”
“Mistress McVeigh!” Loring uttered an inarticulate exclamation which was first cousin to a grunt, as the Judge’s tone reached his ear, and the profound bow was robbed of its full value by the Judge straightening, and glancing sideways.
“My delight, Madame, at being invited over this morning is only to be expressed in the silent language of the blossoms I bring. You will honor me by accepting them?”
“With very great pleasure, Judge; here is Mr. Loring.”
“Heartily pleased to see you have arrived,” and the Judge moved over and shook hands. “I came within bowing distance of Miss Gertrude as I entered, so I presume she has induced you to come over to the Pines for good. Your position, Mr. Loring, is one to be envied in that respect. Your hours are never lonely for lack of womanly grace and beauty in your household;” he glanced at Mrs. McVeigh, who was arranging the flowers in a vase, “I envy you, sir, I envy you.”
“Oh, Gertrude is well enough, though we don’t unite to spoil each other with flattering demonstrations,” and he smiled cynically at the other two, and peered quizzically at Mrs. McVeigh, who presented him with a crimson beauty of a rose, for which he returned a very gracious, “Thank 216 you,” and continued: “Yes, Gertrude’s a very good girl, though it’s a pity it wasn’t a boy, instead, who came into the Loring family that day to keep up the old name. And what about that boy of yours, Mistress McVeigh? When do you expect him home?”
“Very soon, now. His last message said they hoped to reach Charleston by the twentieth––so you see the time is short. I am naturally intensely anxious––the dread of that blockade oppresses me.”
“No need, no need,” and Loring’s tone was decided and reassuring. “We got out through it, and back through it, and never a Yankee in sight; and those men on a special commission will be given double care, you may be sure.”
“Certainly; the run from Nassau has kept the mail service open almost without a break,” assented Clarkson, “and we have little reason for anxiety now that the more doubtful part of the undertaking has been successfully arranged.”