He was stationed at Charleston and was absent only for some necessary business at Columbia, and hearing Judge Clarkson was at the Terrace he had halted long enough to greet the folks and consult the Judge on some legal technicality involved in his journey.
Pluto, who had seen that the Captain’s horse had also been given refreshment, came thoughtfully up the steps, puzzling his head over the perfect rose cast aside on a pretense. It puzzled him quite as much as the problem of Louise; and the only key he could find to it was that this very grand lady knew all about the identity of Louise, and knew why she had hurried away so when old Nelse recognized her.
He wished he had that picture of Margeret, brought by Rosa from Georgia. But it was still with a lot of Rosa’s things over at the Larue plantation, with the child. He counted on going over to see the boy in a week at the furthest.
As he reached the top of the steps he could see Margeret through the open window of the sitting room. Her back was towards him, and she was so absorbed in regarding the party in the dining room that he approached unnoticed, and she turned with a gasp as of fear when he spoke:
“You’re like to see more gay folks like that over here than you have at Loringwood,” he remarked. “I reckon you glad to move.”
“No,” she said, and went slowly towards the veranda; then she turned and looked at him questionably, and with an interest seldom shown for anyone.
“You––you heard news from Larue plantation?” she asked, hesitatingly.
“Who, me? No, I aint had no news. I aint”––then he stopped and stared at her, slowly comprehending what news 234 might come from there. “Fo’ God’s sake, tell me! My Zekal; my––”
She lifted her finger for silence and caught his arm.
“They hear you––they will,” she said, warningly, “come in here.”