“Margeret is colored,” explained Mrs. McVeigh, “that is,” as the other showed surprise, “although her skin does not really show color, yet she is an octoroon––one-eighth of colored ancestry. She has never been to the Terrace before, and she had a lost sort of appearance as she wandered in here, did she not? She belongs to Miss Loring’s portion of the estate, and is very capable in her strange, quiet way. There have been times, however, when she was not quite right mentally––before we moved up here, and the darkies rather stand in awe of her ever since, but she is entirely harmless.”
“That explains her peculiar, wistful expression,” suggested Judithe. “I am glad you told me of it, for her melancholy had an almost mesmeric effect on me––and her eyes!”
All the time she was changing her dress for lunch those haunting eyes, and even the tones of her voice, remained with her.
“Those poor octoroons!” and she sighed as she thought of them, “the intellect of their white fathers, and the bar of their mothers’ blood against the development of it––poor soul, poor soul––she actually looks like a soul in prison. Oh!”––and she flung out her hands in sudden passion of impotence. “What can one woman do against such a multitude? One look into that woman’s hopeless face has taken all the courage from me. Ah, the resignation of it!”
But when she appeared among the others a little later, gowned in sheer white, with touches of apple green here and there, and the gay, gracious manner of one pleased with the world, and having all reason to believe the world pleased with her, no one could suspect that she had any more serious problem to solve than that of arranging her own amusements.
Just now the things most interesting to her were the affairs of the Confederacy. Judge Clarkson answered all her questions with much good humor, mingled with amusement, for the Marquise, despite her American sympathies, would get affairs hopelessly mixed when trying to comprehend political and military intricacies; and then the gallant Judge would explain it all over again. Whether from Columbia or Charleston, he was always in touch with the latest returns, hopes, plans of the leaders, and possibilities of the Southern Confederacy, together with all surreptitious assistance from foreign sources, in which Great Britain came 229 first and Spain close behind, each having special reasons of their own for widening the breach in the union of states.
From Mobile there came, also, through letters to Mrs. McVeigh, many of the plans and possibilities of the Southern posts––her brother being stationed at a fort there and transmitting many interesting views and facts of the situation to his sister on her more Northern plantation.
Thus, although they were out of the whirl of border and coast strife, they were by no means isolated as regards tidings, and the fact was so well understood that their less fortunate neighbors gathered often at the Terrace to hear and discuss new endeavors, hopes and fears.
“I like it,” confessed Judithe to Delaven, “they are like one great family; in no country in the world could you see such unanimous enthusiasm over one central question. They all appear to know so many of the representative people; in no other agricultural land could it be so. And there is one thing especially striking to me in comparison with France––in all this turmoil there is never a scandal, no intrigues in high places such as we are accustomed to in a court where Madame, the general’s wife, is often quite as much of a factor in the political scene as the general himself; it is all very refreshing to a foreigner.”