Meanwhile, Lucas was driving slowly along the turnpike down which Fanchon had galloped, followed by Corwin—on his way, as it turned out, to his death; for that ride had led straight to the climax in the upper room of the inn. As it transpired later on, both Virginia and Lucas were thinking of it as the colonel’s slow old horses trotted along under the spreading branches of the great trees which stood like sentinels on either side of the wide road.
At this late season the foliage was dense and a little dusty, while here and there a sumac waved the first red flag of autumn, or a gum-tree stood like a flame in the midst of a grove of cedars. Virginia was watching a cardinal-bird winging its crimson flight from branch to branch when she heard Lucas accost a passing friend and then fall to chuckling—the succulent, suggestively happy chuckle of the negro. Lucas had never acquired the silent elegance of Mrs. Payson’s coachman. He was an old family servant, and he had known Virginia from her childhood. He chuckled now, touching the off horse with the mildly provoking tip of his whip.
“See dat nigger, Miss Jinny? He works at Miz Quantah’s place. He’s gwine courtin’, sho’s yo’re born!”
Virginia, who had lost sight of the red bird, glanced down the road after the retreating form of a middle-aged negro attired in clean blue overalls and a big straw hat.
“How do you know he’s going courting, Lucas? He’s not very young, is he?”
“No, ma’am, Miss Jinny, he ain’t, but his wife died a while ago. He’s gwine courtin’—yes, miss, he sho’ is. How’d I know? He done wash his face, Miss Jinny. When a man wash his face an’ shave, he’s gwine courtin’—yes, miss.”
Virginia laughed, and Lucas, thus encouraged, proceeded. He touched the nigh horse this time.
“Yo’ g’long, Tommy Becket. Yes, Miss Jinny, he’s gwine courtin’—he works ober at Miz Quantah’s, ayonnah”—Lucas pointed his whip—“righ’ over dere in dem trees. Dat’s where Miz Wilyum Carter am now, Miss Jinny.”
Virginia blushed. Involuntarily her eyes followed the flourish of his whip. They had come to the foot-hills, and, in a clearing, she saw a bleak farmhouse, a mere shack it seemed to her. She remembered that the Quantah place was miserable and the woman herself gaunt and poor—a forlorn, forbidding creature.
Then Lucas broke into his monologue again.