CHAPTER XVIII
THE VISITATIONS OF WAR
ANGELA’S shock of delight at seeing him was obvious to Isabey, and the two poor souls looked into each other’s eyes with love and longing for one brief moment. Then reason and good sense resumed their sway.
Isabey came up the steps and held out his hand, and Angela, scarcely knowing what she did, put hers within it.
“I couldn’t imagine what was the matter,” he said, laughing and shaking hands with Lyddon, who stopped churning long enough to do so. “I rode up to the front of the house, and saw not a soul; then I ventured around to the back and witnessed the present inspiring spectacle.”
“Angela put me to it,” replied Lyddon. “Of all the house servants only Hector and Mammy Tulip are left and some small blacks whose names I never have found out. Colonel Tremaine, Archie, and I couldn’t let Angela do all the work, so we have ventured to assist.”
“Hercules churned, I’m sure,” cried Angela, recovering herself, and once more adopting an arch and merry tone. “Perhaps I shall put Mr. Lyddon to spinning yet.”
“If you dance for him,” responded Isabey, smiling, “he will do better than Herod and give you his own, not another man’s head upon a charger, if you ask it.”
As he spoke Angela became suddenly conscious of her pinned-up skirts, her bare arms, and the gay silk handkerchief around her hair. In a moment her skirts were unpinned, her sleeves rolled down, her bright hair uncovered, and she was a picture of demureness.
Then, examining the churn and seeing the butter had come, Angela called Aunty Tulip to take charge of it, and they all went into the drawing-room.
Mrs. Tremaine greeted Isabey with the utmost cordiality, as did Colonel Tremaine. The Colonel, however, did not rise from his satin chair, but, quickly releasing Isabey’s hand after grasping it, said solemnly: