All day and all night it rained with a steady, unrelenting pour, and when the steamboat which plies between Cincinnati and Frankfort stopped at the latter place, two ladies from the lower deck looked drearily over the city, one frowning impatiently at the mud and the rain, while the other wished in her heart that she was safely back in her old home, and had never consented to this foolish trip. This wish, however, she dared not express to her companion, who, though calling her mother, was in reality the mistress—the one whose word was law, and to whose wishes everything else must bend.
“This is delightful,” the younger lady exclaimed, as holding up her fashionable traveling dress, and glancing ruefully at her thin kid gaiters, she prepared to walk the plank. “This is charming. I wonder if they always have such weather in Kentucky.”
“No, Miss, very seldom, ’cept on strordinary ’casions,” said the polite African, who was holding an umbrella over her head, and who felt bound to defend his native State.
The lady tossed her little bonnet proudly, and turning to her mother, continued: “Have you any idea how we are to get to Redstone Hall?”
At this question an old gray-haired negro, who, with several other idlers, was standing near, came forward and said, “If it’s Redstone Hall whar Miss wants to go, I’s here with Marster Frederic’s carriage. I come to fotch a man who’s been out thar tryin’ to buy a house of marster in Louisville.”
At this announcement the face of both ladies brightened perceptibly, and pointing out their baggage to the negro, who was none other than our old friend Uncle Phil, they went to a public house to wait until the carriage came round for them.
“What do you suppose Frederic will think when he sees us?” the mother asked; and the daughter replied, “He won’t think anything, of course. It is perfectly proper that we should visit our relations, particularly when we are as near to them as Dayton, and they are in affliction, too. He would have been displeased if we had returned without giving him a call.”
From these remarks the reader will readily imagine that the ladies in question were Mrs. Huntington and her daughter Isabella. They had decided at last to visit Dayton, and had started for that city a few days after the receipt of Frederic’s letter announcing his father’s death: consequently they knew nothing of the marriage, and the fact that Colonel Raymond was dead only increased Isabel’s desire to visit Redstone Hall, for she rightly guessed that Frederic was now so absorbed in business that it would be long ere he came to New Haven again; so she insisted upon coming, and as she found her Ohio aunt not altogether agreeable, she had shortened her visit there, and now with her mother sat waiting at the Mansion House for the appearance of Phil and the carriage. That Isabel was beautiful was conceded by every one, and that she was as treacherous as beautiful was conceded by those who knew her best. Early in life she had been engaged to Rudolph McVicar, a man of strong passions, an iron will and indomitable perseverance. But when young Raymond came, and she fancied she could win him, she unhesitatingly broke her engagement with Rudolph, who, stung to madness by her cold, unfeeling conduct, swore to be revenged. This threat, however, was little heeded by the proud beauty. If she secured Frederic Raymond, she would be above all danger, and she bent every energy to the accomplishment of her plan. She knew that the Kentuckians were proverbial for their hospitality, and feeling sure that no one would think it at all improper for her mother and herself to visit their cousin, as she called Frederic, she determined, if possible, to prolong that visit until asked to stay with him always. He had never directly talked to her of love, consequently she felt less delicacy in going to his house and claiming relationship with him; so when Phil came around with the carriage, she said to him, quite as a matter of course, “How is Cousin Frederic since his father’s death?”
“Jest tolable, thankee,” returned the negro, at the same time saying, “Be you marster’s kin?”
“Certainly,” answered Isabel, while the negro bowed low, for any one related to his master was a person of distinction to him.