Then they talked together of Queenie’s future, and where she would go when she left Merrivale, as she was resolved upon doing, for a time at least.
“I may come back to Margery after awhile,” she said, “but now I must go where no one knows me, and pities me. I will not be pitied, and so I must go away.”
“Then why not go to that place in Florida where your Gra’ma Hetherton used to live,” Mrs. Ferguson suggested. “I’ve heard it was a fine place where they once kept a hundred niggers, though it must be awfully run down now.”
“You mean Magnolia Park,” Queenie rejoined. “It is near Tallahassee. I have heard my father speak of it. He used to go there when a boy, and he told me what a grand old house it was, standing in the midst of a grove of magnolias, with rooms enough to accommodate twenty or thirty guests. Yes, I should like to go there. I should like to see Florida. Pierre will go with me, and it will cost us but little to live.”
“And let me give you that little,” grandma said. “I’ve money in the bank, laid up for Anny; but now she’s goin’ to marry so rich, she does not need it. Let me give you a thousand dollars to start on, and when that’s gone, you shall have more unless you are ready to come home, as you most likely will be.”
The Florida plan struck Queenie very favorably. She had heard from her father of Magnolia Park, where Mrs. Hetherton had lived before her marriage, and knowing nothing of the dilapidated condition of the house, or the many difficulties to be met and overcome before she could be even comfortable there, she was anxious to go at once, and broached the subject to Margery, who naturally opposed it with all her powers. It was her wish that Queenie should remain at Hetherton Place, and share equally with her in their father’s home and fortune.
But this Queenie would not do. After a time she might feel differently, she said, but now she must go away, and as Magnolia Park could not be of any great value to Margery she was willing to accept so much and go there to live. So Mr. Beresford was consulted and questioned with regard to the place, of which they knew very little. Originally it was a fine plantation, with at least a hundred negroes upon it, but these were scattered by the war, and since that time, or rather since he had done business for Mr. Hetherton, the farm had been let to different parties, who took the house furnished as it was when the last of Mrs. Hetherton’s relations left it, and who were not supposed to have had any particular care for it. Now, however, it was untenanted, and only a few acres of the best land were rented to a man whose plantation adjoined it. It might be habitable, and it might not, but his advice was that Queenie stay in Merrivale, as it was getting near the last of February and not at all the time for going to Florida.
But Queenie argued differently. March was the month when many tourists flitted to the South, she said. She would have plenty of time to get acclimated before summer, and she seemed so anxious and excited, and determined that a consultation was held between Mr. Beresford, Grandma Ferguson, and Margery, which resulted in the decision that as soon as the necessary arrangements could be made, Queenie should leave Merrivale for Magnolia Park, accompanied by Pierre and Axie, Mrs. Ferguson’s colored girl, who was trusty and efficient, and delighted with the prospect of a change from the monotonous life in Merrivale. This giving up of Axie, who had lived with her so many years, was grandma’s own proposition, which she strenuously insisted upon, saying, when Queenie remonstrated, that it would not be for long, as they’d soon get enough of that heathenish land of niggers and sand, and be back to the North again.
The last week in February was fixed upon for Queenie’s departure, and the day before she left, the Hetherton carriage drove through the village to the cottage, where Mrs. La Rue was living alone. From it Queenie alighted, and entering unannounced remained there for half an hour or more. But of that interview nothing was ever known, except this: When, next day Margery called at the cottage and reported that Queenie had gone, Mrs. La Rue said, with a quivering lip and trembling voice:
“She kissed me and called me mother.”