“In this particular vicinity?” she repeated, questioningly.
“Yes, if Matthew Loring should once get suspicion of the fact that your maid was really his girl Rosa––no, Rhoda––it would be an awkward fact allied to the episode here today,” and he made a gesture towards the library window they were just passing.
“Come, we will go down the steps,” she suggested. They did so, and were promenading under the trees, lantern lit, on the lawn, when Colonel McVeigh came out on the veranda and felt a momentary envy of Monroe, who was free from a host’s duties. They were clear of the steps and of probable listeners before Judithe asked:
“Where did you get this information?”
“From a slave who wanted you warned that you without knowing it, are probably harboring the spy whom Captain Masterson spoke of today.”
“Ah, a slave?” she remarked, thoughtfully; and the curious, intense gaze of Margeret was recalled to her, only to be followed by the memory of Pluto’s anxiety that Louise should leave before the arrival of the Lorings; it was, then, without doubt, Pluto who gave the warning; but she remembered Zekal, and felt she had little to be anxious over.
“You probably are not aware,” he continued, “what a very serious affair it is considered here to assist in hiding a slave of that sort under assumed names or occupations. But if it is discovered it would prove ruinous to you just now.”
“In three days I shall be out of the country,” she answered, briefly. “I go down to Savannah, secure Louise from this blunder––for there is really nothing to be proven against her as a spy––and then, farewell, or ill, to Carolina. I do not expect to enter it again. My arrangements are all made. Nothing has been forgotten. As to my good Louise, your informer has not been made acquainted with 314 all the facts. It is true she was a Georgian slave, but is so no longer. For over a year she has been in possession of the papers establishing her freedom. Her own money, and a clever lawyer, arranged all that without any trouble whatever. What Monsieur Loring would do if he knew I had a maid whose name was assumed, I neither know nor care. He could not identify her as the girl Rhoda Larue, even if he saw her. His sight has failed until he could not distinguish you from Colonel McVeigh if across the room. I learned that fact through Madame McVeigh before leaving Mobile, so, you perceive, I have not risked so much in making the journey with my pretty maid; and I shall risk no more when I make my adieus the day after tomorrow.”
She laughed, and looked up in his face. He looked down in her’s, but he did not laugh.