“Anything that expresses the feminine homage to returning heroes,” replied Judithe, with a little bow of affected humility, at which Colonel McVeigh laughed as he returned it. She passed out of the door with his sister and he stood looking after her, puzzled, yet with hope in his eyes. His impetuousness in plunging into the very heart of the question at once had, at any rate, not angered her, which was a great point gained. He muttered an oath when he realized that but for the Countess Biron’s gossip they might never have been separated, for she did love him then––he knew it. Even today, when she would have run away from him again, she did not deny that! Forty-eight hours in which to win her––and his smile as he watched her disappear had a certain grim determination in it. He meant to do it. She had grown white when he quoted to her her own never forgotten words. Well, she should say them to him again! The hope of it sent the blood leaping to his heart, and he turned away with a quick sigh.
Gertrude, who had only stepped out on the veranda when she left the table, and stood still by the open glass door, saw the lingering, intense gaze with which he followed the woman she instinctively disliked––the woman who was now mistress of Loringwood, and had made the purchase as carelessly as though it were a new ring to wear on her white hand––a new toy to amuse herself with in a new country; the woman who threw money away on whims, had the manner of a princess, and who had aroused in Gertrude Loring the first envy or jealousy she had ever been conscious of in her pleasant, well-ordered life. From the announcement that Loringwood had passed into the stranger’s possession her heart had felt like lead in her bosom. She could not have explained why––it was more a presentiment of evil than aught else, and she thought she knew the reason of it 269 when she saw that look in Kenneth McVeigh’s eyes––a look she had never seen there before.
And the woman who had caused it all was walking the floor of her own apartment in a fever of impatience. If the man she expected would only come––then she would have work to do––definite plans to follow; now all was so vague, and those soldiers staying over, was it only a chance invitation, or was there a hidden purpose in that retained guard? Her messenger should have arrived within an hour of Colonel McVeigh, and the hour was gone.
As she passed the mirror she caught sight of her anxious face in it, and halted, staring at the reflection critically.
“You are turning coward!” she said, between her closed teeth. “You are afraid to be left to yourself an hour longer––afraid because of this man’s voice and the touch of his hand. Aren’t you proud of yourself––you! He is the beast whose name you hated for years––the man for whom that poor runaway was taught the graces and accomplishments of white women––in this house you heard Matthew Loring mention the price of her and the portion to be forfeited to Kenneth McVeigh because the girl was not to be found. Do you forget that? Do you think I shall let you forget it? I shan’t. You are to do the work you came here to do. You are to have no other interest in the people of this house.”
She continued her nervous walk back and forth across the room. She put aside the grey habit and donned a soft, pretty house-gown of the same color. Her hands were trembling. She clasped and unclasped them with a despairing gesture.
“It is not love,” she whispered, as though in wild argument against the fear of it. “Not love––some curse in the blood––that is what it is. And to think that after three 270 years––three years!––it all comes back like this. Oh, you fool, you fool! Love,” she continued, in more clear, reasoning tones, speaking aloud slowly as though to impress it on her mind, as a child will repeat a lesson to be learned; “love must be based on respect––what respect can you have for this buyer of young girls?––this ardent-eyed animal who has the good fortune, to be classed as a gentleman. Love in a woman’s heart should be her religion; what religion could be centered on so vile a creature? To look up to such a man, how low a woman would have to sink.”
Evilena knocked at the door to show some little gift brought by her brother from across the ocean, and Judithe turned to her feverishly, glad of some companionship to drive away her dread and suspense until the expected messenger arrived––the minutes were as long as hours, now!
Colonel McVeigh had scarcely more than greeted Loring when Pluto announced Captain Masterson and some other gentleman. Evilena saw them coming from the window and reported there were two soldiers besides Captain Masterson, and a man in blue clothes, who aroused her curiosity mightily. They were out of range before Judithe reached the window, but her heart almost stopped beating for an instant; the man she expected wore a blue yachting suit, and this sudden gathering of soldiery at the Terrace?
Colonel McVeigh greeted Masterson cordially and turned to the others. Two were men in Confederate uniform, just outside the door, and the third was a tall man in the uniform of a Federal Captain. His left wrist was bandaged. He was smiling slightly as McVeigh’s glance became one of doubt for an instant, and then brightened into unmistakable recognition.