When at last he awoke, Marian was sitting by his side, and to her he communicated what he had done, telling her where the letters were, and that if he died ere Frederic’s return, she must give the one bearing the words “For my Son” to him.
“You will not read it, of course,” he said, “or ever seek to know what its contents are.”
Had Marian Lindsey been like many girls, the caution would have insured the reading of the letter at once, but she fortunately shrank from anything dishonorable, and was blessed with but a limited share of woman’s curiosity; consequently, the letter was safe in her care, even though no one ever came to claim it. All that afternoon she sat by her guardian, and when as usual the stage thundered down the turnpike, leaving no Frederic at the door, she soothed him with the hope that he would be there to-morrow. But the morrow came and went as did other to-morrows, until Col. Raymond grew so ill that a telegram was despatched to the truant boy, bidding him hasten if he would see his father again alive.
“That will bring him,” the old man said, while the big tears rolled down his wrinkled face. “He’ll be here in a few days,” and he asked that his bed might be moved near the window, where, propped upon pillows, he watched with childish impatience for the coming of his boy.
CHAPTER II.
FATHER AND SON.
A telegram from Frederic, who was coming home at last! He would be there that very day, and the inmates of Redstone Hall were thrown into a state of unusual excitement. Old Dinah in jaunty turban and clean white apron, bustled from the kitchen to the dining room, and from the dining room back to the kitchen, jingling her huge bunch of keys with an air of great importance, and kicking from under her feet any luckless black baby which chanced to be in her way, making always an exception in favor of “Victoria Eugenia,” who bore a striking resemblance to herself, and would one day call her “gran’mam.” Dinah was in her element, for nothing pleased her better than the getting up a “tip-top dinner,” and fully believing that Frederic had been half starved in a land where they didn’t have hoe-cake and bacon three times a day, she determined to give him one full meal, such as would make his stomach ache for three full hours at least!
Mr. Raymond, too, was better than usual to-day, and at his post by the window watched eagerly the distant turn in the road where the stage would first appear. In her chamber, Marian was busy with her toilet, trying the effect of dress after dress, and at Alice’s suggestion deciding at last upon a pale blue, which harmonized well with her fair complexion.
“Frederic likes blue, I know,” she thought, as she remembered having heard him admire a dress of that color worn by a young lady who had once visited at Redstone Hall.
Dinah, when consulted as to the best method of making red hair dark, had strongly recommended “possum ile and sulphur, scented with some kind of essence;” but to this dye Marian did not take kindly. She preferred that her hair should retain its natural color, and falling as it did in soft curls around her face and neck, it was certainly not unbecoming. Her toilet was completed at last—Alice’s little hands had decided that it was perfect—the image reflected by the mirror was far from being ordinary looking, and secretly wondering if Frederic would not think her tolerably pretty, Marian sat down to await his coming. She had not been seated long when Alice’s quick ear caught the sound of the distant stage, and in a few moments Marian from behind the half-closed shutter, was watching the young man as he came slowly up the avenue, which led from the highway to the house. His step was usually bounding and rapid, but now he lingered as if unwilling to reach the door.
“’Tis because of his father,” thought Marian. “He fears he may be dead.”