Again Caroline called Pluto.
“Go on,” said Monroe, “but get me the picture soon as you can. I leave in the morning.”
“I be right heah with it in hour’s time,” promised Pluto; “don’ reckon I can slip away any sooner, a sight o’ quality folks a’ comen’.”
CHAPTER XXVI.
As Monroe entered the hall Judithe came down the stairs, a dainty vision in palest rose. She wore armlets and girdle of silver filagree, a silver comb in the dark tresses, and large filagree loops in her ears gave the beautiful face a half-oriental character.
Admire her though he must, he felt an impatience with her, a wonder that so beautiful a being, one so blest with all the material things of life, should forsake harmony, home, and her own land, for the rude contests where men fought, and plotted, and died––died ingloriously sometimes, for the plots and intrigues through which she claimed to find the only escape from ennui.
She saw him, hesitated an instant, and then came towards him, with a suggestion of daring in her eyes.
“I might as well hear the worst, first as last,” she said, taking his arm. “Is not the veranda more cool than in here? Come, we shall see. I prefer to be out of hearing of the people while you lecture me for today’s mishap.”