“You better kick dat lef’ hine-foot o’ yourn, an’ stop studyin’ ’bout de hosses, fo’ mistis come arter you! Ez long ez ole marse holler at you, you doan’ min’; but jes’ let mistis in dat sof’ voice say right fine, ‘Simon Peter!’ I lay you jes’ hop,” was Delilah’s wifely reply.
General Temple, confined to the house by the weather, drew military maps with great precision, and worked hard upon his History of Temple’s Brigade. The fact that he knew much more about the Duke of Marlborough’s campaigns, or Prince Eugene’s, or anybody’s, in fact, than he did about any he had been directly engaged in, in no wise set him back. Mrs. Temple, who thought the general a prodigy of military science, was rejoiced that he had something to divert him through the long wintry days, when Barn Elms was as completely shut in from even the little neighborhood world as if it were in the depths of a Russian forest. Jack Throckmorton, who after a while began to see that the major was certainly singed, as he expressed it to himself, did not carry out his usual tactics of making his vicinity too hot for his father, but when he wished to see Jacqueline went over in the mornings. If the weather was tolerable, they were pretty sure to find their way to the ice-pond. Jack, carrying on his arm a little wooden chair, and putting Jacqueline in it, would push it over the ice before him as he sped along on skates. Then Jacqueline’s fresh, young laugh would ring out shrilly—then she was happy. Sometimes Judith and Throckmorton, smiling, would watch them. Jack liked Mrs. Beverley immensely, but he confided to Jacqueline that he was a little afraid of her—just as Jacqueline candidly admitted she was in awe of Major Throckmorton. Throckmorton, watching this childish boy and girl fun, would sometimes laugh inwardly and grimly at himself. How true was it, as Mrs. Sherrard had said, that Jacqueline would make a good playmate for Jack! And then he would turn to Judith, and try to persuade himself of her sweetness and truth. But love comes not by persuasion.
Jack had been giving Jacqueline glowing accounts of the sleigh-rides he had had in the Northwest. Jacqueline was crazy for a sleigh-ride, but there was no such thing as a sleigh in the county. One evening, after tea, as Jacqueline sat dolefully clasping her knees and looking in the fire, and Judith, with hands locked in her lap, was doing the same; Mrs. Temple knitting placidly by the lamp, while General Temple held forth on certain blunders he had discovered in the Retreat of the Ten Thousand—a strange tinkling sound was heard far—far away—almost as if it were in another world! Jacqueline sat perfectly still and gazed into Judith’s eyes. Judith got up and went into the hall. A great patch of moonlight shone through the uncurtained window, and outside it was almost as light as day. The limbs and trunks of the great live-oaks looked preternaturally dark against the white earth and the blue-black, star-lit sky. Suddenly Simon Peter’s head appeared cautiously around the corner of the house, and in a minute or two he came up the back way and planted himself at Judith’s elbow.
“Gord A’mighty, Miss Judy, what dat ar’? What dem bells ringin’ fur? I ’spect de evils is ’broad. I done see two Jack-my-lanterns dis heah night.”
Judith fixed her eyes on the long, straight lane bordered with solemn cedars; she saw a dark object moving along, and heard the sharp click of horses’ shoes on the frozen snow.
“It’s somebody coming,” she said, and in a moment, she cried out joyfully:
“O Jacky, come—come! it’s a sleigh—I see Jack Throckmorton driving—Major Throckmorton is there—and there are four seats!”
Jacqueline jumped up and ran out. She had never seen a sleigh in her life, and there it was turning into the drive before the house. Jack had the reins, and the major’s two thoroughbreds were flying along at a rattling pace, and the bells were jingling loudly and merrily. Jacqueline almost danced with delight. By the time the sleigh drew up at the door, Simon Peter was there to take the reins, and Throckmorton and Jack jumped out and came up the steps. The general and Mrs. Temple were also roused to come out and meet them. As the hall-door swung open, a blast of arctic air entered. Throckmorton’s dark eyes looked black under his seal-skin cap. Jack plunged into business at once.
“Now, Mrs. Temple, you must let me take Miss Jacqueline for a spin to-night; never saw better sleighing in my life. The major’s along, and you know he is as steady as old Time”—the major at heart did not relish this—“and, if Mrs. Beverley will go, it will be awfully jolly.”
Mrs. Temple began some mild protest: it was too cold, or too late, or something; but for once Jacqueline did not hear her, and bounded off up-stairs for her wraps. Even Judith, usually so calm, was a little carried away by the prospect.