“Except this: think of us as men. Come down and see for yourself.”
“Still practising Plutarch,” said the Senator. “Well, the time may come, even if it has not come yet, and I want you to promise me that when it does, you will call on me—either for yourself or any friend of yours. It will be a favor to me, Cary,” he added, with a new tone in his voice, seeing the look on the Doctor’s face. “Somehow, you have turned back the dial, and taken me back to the time when we were young and fresh, and full of high hopes and—yes—aspirations, and I had not found out how d—d mean and sordid the world is. It will be a favor to me.”
“All right, I will,” said the Doctor, “if my friends need it.” And the two friends shook hands.
So the Commission from the old county returned home.
Captain Allen of late spent more and more of his time at Dr. Cary’s. His attitude toward Blair was one of gallantry mingled with protection and homage; but that was his attitude toward every girl; so Blair was under no delusion about it, and between them was always waged a warfare that was half pleasantry. To Mammy Krenda, however, the young man’s relation to her mistress meant much more. No one ever looked at Blair that the old mammy did not instantly interpret it as a confession and a declaration, and having done this she instantly formed her judgment, and took her stand. She had divined the ambition of Dr. Still long before that aspiring young man dispatched to Miss Blair that tinted note which was the real if not the immediate cause of the Carys’ removal from Birdwood to the Bellows cottage. And during those preliminary visits which the young physician had made to the old one, the old woman had with her sharp eyes penetrated his assumed disguise and made him shiver. Dr. Still knew that though Dr. Cary was taking him at his word and believed he really came so often to talk of medicine and seek advice, yet the old mammy discerned his real object, and despised him.
In Captain Allen’s case it was different. Though the old woman and he were ostensibly always at war and never were together without his teasing her and her firing a shot in return at him, yet, at heart, she adored him. His distinguished appearance and his leading position, taken with his cordial and real friendliness toward herself, made him a favorite with her—and the speech he had made to Middleton on her account and his hostility to Leech made her his slave.
Her manner to him was always capricious and fault-finding, as became the jealous guardian of Miss Blair; but “old Argos,” as Captain Allen called her, was his warm ally and he knew it. She took too many occasions to promote his and Blair’s wishes, as she understood them, for him to doubt it, and, possibly, it was as much due to her misapprehension as to anything else, that Steve was drawn on to do what, but for Blair’s good sense, might have imperilled both his happiness and hers.
Since the stir created by the Ku Klux raid, Captain Allen had exercised more precaution than he was accustomed to do. All sorts of rumors were afloat as to what the Government had promised on the instigation of Leech and Still. Captain Allen’s name was mentioned in all of them. Steve, in consequence, had of late been at the court-house less continuously than usual. And from equally natural causes, he had been much more at Dr. Cary’s. To Mammy Krenda’s innuendoes, he laughingly replied that it was healthier near the mountains—to which the old woman retorted that she knew what mountains he was trying to climb.
One afternoon he rode up to Dr. Cary’s a little earlier than usual, and, finding the family absent, turned his horse out in the yard and lounged on the porch, awaiting their arrival. He had not been there long when Mammy Krenda appeared. Steve watched her for a moment with amusement. He knew she had come out to talk to him.
“What are you prowling about here for, you old Ku Klux witch, you?” he asked, with a twinkle in his eye.