“He’s done come home, Rocket has. He’s at the kitchen door.”
It was as Lulu said, for the homesick brute, suspecting something wrong, had broken from his fastenings, and bursting the stable door had come back to Spring Bank, his halter dangling about his neck, and himself looking very defiant, as if he were not again to be coaxed away. At sight of Hugh he uttered a sound of joy, and bounding forward planted both feet within the door ere Hugh had time to reach it.
“Thar’s the old colonel now,” whispered Claib, just as the colonel appeared to claim his runaway.
But Rocket kept them all at bay, snapping, striking, and kicking at every one who ventured to approach him. With compressed lip and moody face Hugh watched the proceeding for a time, now laughing at the frightened negroes hiding behind the lye leach to escape the range of Rocket’s heels, and again groaning mentally as he met the half human look of Rocket’s eyes turned to him as if for aid. At last rising from the spot where he had been sitting he gave the whistle which Rocket always obeyed, and in an instant the sagacious animal was at his side, trying to lick the hands which would not suffer the caress lest his courage should give way.
“I’ll take him home myself,” he said to the old colonel, emerging from his hiding place behind the leach, and bidding Claib follow with another horse, Hugh went a second time to Colonel Tiffton’s farm.
Leading Rocket into the stable he fastened him to the stall, and then with his arms around his neck talked to him as if he had been a refractory, disobedient child. We do not say he was understood, but after one long, despairing cry, which rang in Hugh’s ears for many a day and night, Rocket submitted to his fate, and staid quietly with the colonel, who petted him if possible more than Hugh had done, without, however, receiving from him the slightest token of affection in return.
CHAPTER XIV.
MRS. JOHNSON’S LETTER.
The spring had passed away, and the warm June sun was shining over Spring Bank, whose mistress and servants were very lonely, for Hugh was absent, and with him the light of the house had departed. Business of his late uncle’s had taken him to New Orleans, where he might possibly remain all summer. ’Lina was glad, for since the fatal dress affair there had been but little harmony between herself and her brother. The tenderness awakened by her long illness seemed to have been forgotten, and Hugh’s manner toward her was cold and irritating to the last degree, so that the young lady rejoiced to be freed from his presence.
“I do hope he’ll stay,” she said one morning, when speaking of him to her mother. “I think it’s a heap nicer without him, though dull enough at the best. I wish we could go to some watering place. There’s the Tifftons just returned from New York, and I don’t much believe they can afford it more than we, for I heard their place was mortgaged to Harney. Oh, bother, to be so poor,” and the young lady gave a little angry jerk at the hair she was braiding.
“Whar’s ole miss?” asked Claib, who had just returned from Versailles. “Thar’s a letter for her,” and depositing it upon the bureau, he left the room.