He walked along the rose hedge and back again in silence, the colored man regarding him anxiously; finally he said:
“All right, my man. I’ll speak to Madame and be careful not to tell her too much. You are all right, Pluto; you did right to come to me.”
Some one called Pluto from the window. He was about to go when Monroe asked:
“What about that picture you said your wife had of the girl? Madame Caron may not be easy to convince. You’d better let me have it to show her. Is it a good likeness?”
“’Fore God I don’ know! I only reckon it is, ’cause 310 Nelse took her, on sight, fo’ Margeret’s ghost, which shows it must be the plain image of her! I done been so upset since I got back home with Zekal I nevah had a minute to look ovah Rosa’s b’longens’, but the likeness is in that bundle somewhere; Rosa alles powerful careful o’ that locket thing, an’ kep’ it put away; don’t mind as I evah seen it but once, jest when we fust married. I’d a clean fo’got all ’bout it, only fo’ an accident––an’ that’s the woman now it was painted from.”
He pointed to a window where Margeret stood outlined for an instant against the bright background.
“Don’t look more like her now, I reckon,” he continued, “all her trouble must a’ changed her mightily, fo’ the ole folks do say she was counted a beauty once. Little Rhoda went a’most crazy when some one stole the locket, so Rosa said; then by and by the gal what took it got scared––thought it was a hoodoo––an’ fetched it back, but Rhoda gone away then. My Rosa took it an’ kep’ it faithful, waiten’ fo’ that chile to come back, but she nevah come back while Rosa lived.”
Monroe was staring still at the figure of Margeret, seen dimly, now, through the window.
“Look here!” he said, sharply, “if the old man recognized the likeness, how comes it that the mother herself did not see it?”
“Why, Margeret she not get here till nex’ day after Madame Caron’s maid start down the river to take the cars fo’ Savannah,” explained Pluto. “Then Miss Gertrude come a visiten’ an’ fetch Margeret along. Yo’ see, sah, that woman done been made think her chile dead a long time ago, an’ when Margeret went clean ’stracted the word went down to Larues that she dead or dyen’––one! any way my Rosa nevah know’d no different till Larues moved back from 311 Georgy, so there wan’t no one heah to ’dentify her, an’ there wan’t no one heah to let that gal know she had a liven mammy.”