“I hope so, Madame Caron,” and the gaze was so steady, his grasp so firm, that she drew her hand away with a little laugh that was a trifle nervous.
“Your voice and face reassure me! I dare breathe again!” she said, with a mock sigh of relief; “my first glimpse of your uniform made me fear a descent of the enemy.”
“Have you need to fear any special enemy here?” he asked, bluntly. She put her hand out with a little gesture of protest as she sank back into the chair he offered.
“Why should you be so curious on a first meeting?” she asked, with a quizzical smile. “But I will tell you, Monsieur, for all that; I am, of course, very much afraid of the Northern armies. I left Orleans rather than live under the Federal government, if you please! I have bought a very handsome estate a few miles from here which, of course, binds my interests more closely to the South,” and she flashed a meaning, mocking glance up at him. “Do not look so serious, my friend, it is all very beautifully arranged; I had my will made as soon as the deed was signed, of course; no matter what accidents should happen to me, all my Southern properties will be held intact to carry on the plans for which they were purchased. I am already building my 278 monuments,” and she unfurled a silken fan the color of her corals and smiled across it at him.
Their backs were towards the window. She was seated in the deep chair, while he stood near her, leaning on the back of another one and looking down in her face. Pluto, who was still hovering around with the hope of getting speech with a “sure enough Lincum man,” had come noiselessly to the open window and only halted an instant when he saw the stranger so pleasantly occupied, and heard the musical voice of Madame Caron say “My friend.” It was to him the sweetest voice in the world now, and he would gladly have lingered while she spoke, but the rest of the words were very soft and low, and Miss Loring was moving towards him coming slowly up the steps, looking at him as though the veranda was no place for a nigger to lounge when unemployed––a fact he was well enough aware of to walk briskly away around the corner of the house, when he found her eye on him.
She had reached the top of the steps and was thinking the colored folks at the Terrace were allowed a great many privileges, when she heard the low tones of a man’s voice. Supposing it was Kenneth and possibly his mother, she stepped softly towards the window. Before she reached it she perceived her mistake––the man wore a blue uniform, and though she could not see Madame Caron, she could see the soft folds of her dress, and the white hand moving the coral fan.
Disappointed, and not being desirous of joining the woman whose charm evidently enthralled every one but herself, she stepped quietly back out of range, and passed on along the veranda to the sitting room, where Evilena was deeply engaged over the problem of a dress to be draped and trimmed for the party. And the two talked on within 279 the closed doors of the library, the man’s voice troubled, earnest; the woman’s, careless and amused.
“I shall tell you what I wish, Captain Jack,” she said, tapping the fan slowly on the palm of her hand and looking up at him, “I am most pleased to see you, but for all that I wish you had not come to this particular house, and I wish you would go away.”
“Which means,” he said, after a pause, “that you are in some danger?”
“Oh, no! if it were that,” and her glance was almost coquettish, “I should ask you to remain as my champion.”