There was another letter, without signature. It said: “McVeigh is in Charleston, detained by official matters. Pierson leaves with particulars. Mail too irregular to be reliable. Your latest word from Columbia most valuable; we transmitted it as you suggested. Your location fortunate. The Powers at W. delighted with your success, but doubtful of your safety––unhealthy climate except for the natives! Report emancipation will be proclaimed, but nothing definite heard yet.”
She removed her habit and joined the rest at the breakfast table, clad in the daintiest of pink morning gowns, and listened with pleased surprise to Mrs. McVeigh’s information that her son, the Colonel, might be expected at any time. They had passed the blockade successfully, reached Charleston two nights before; were detained by official matters, and hoped, surely, to reach home within twenty-four hours after 248 the letter. His stay, however, would have to be brief, as he must move north at once with his regiment.
And in the midst of the delight, Judithe created a sensation by remarking:
“Well, my good people, I am not going to allow the Colonel all the surprise. I have had one of my own this morning, and I can scarcely wait to share it with you. It is the most astonishing thing!” and she glanced around at the expectant faces.
“If it’s of interest to you, it will be the wide world’s worth to us,” affirmed Delaven, with exaggerated show of devotion, at which she laughed happily, and turned to her hostess.
“You remember I informed you in Mobile I meant to sell my Orleans property, as I would not occupy it under existing rule;” to which explanation Matthew Loring actually beamed commendation, “well, I left it in the hands of my business man with orders to invest the money from the sale in some interior plantations not under Federal control. I wanted a house furnished, colonial by choice––some historical mansion preferred. The particular reason for this is, I have no relatives, no children to provide for, and the fancy has come to me for endowing some educational institution in your land, and for such purpose a mansion such as I suggested would, in all ways be preferable. Well, they forwarded me a list of properties. I sent them back unread lest I should covet them all, for they all would cost so little! I repeated to them the description Madame McVeigh had given me of your ancestral home, my dear sir, and told them to secure me a property possessing just such advantages as yours does––near enough to the coast for yachting, and far enough from cities to be out of social chains, except the golden one of friendship,” she added, letting her eyes rest 249 graciously on her listeners. “Well, can you surmise the result of that order?”
Each looked at the other in wonder; her smile told half the truth.
“I am afraid to put my surmise in words,” confessed Mrs. McVeigh, “for fear of disappointment.”
“I’m not!” and Evilena flourished her napkin to emphasize her delight, “its Loringwood! Oh, oh, Madame Caron, you’ve bought Loringwood!”
Margeret was entering the room with a small tray containing something for Mr. Loring, whose meals she prepared personally. Delaven, who was facing her, saw her grow ashen, and her eyes closed as though struck a physical blow; a glass from the tray shivered on the floor, as he sprang up and saved her from falling.