Moses’s eyes moved swiftly. “Nor I ain’ forgit; I’se done learnt some’n’ sense den. He better look out.”
“You think the Ku Klux would trouble him?” asked Leech.
Moses stole a swift look at him. “He better look out,” he repeated.
“Have some whiskey,” said Leech.
There was one man in the County besides Leech who was not overjoyed to see Middleton. When Jacquelin Gray heard of his arrival, his countenance fell. Perfect love may cast out fear, but it does not cast out jealousy; and Jacquelin was conscious of a pain in his heart. He did not know whether Blair Cary liked Middleton now very much or not, but he feared she did; and Middleton had been the cause of his rupture with her. When, therefore, he met Middleton he could not pretend that he was glad to see him. So he greeted him distantly, though with marked civility. Middleton was unusually cordial to him; but this only grated on Jacquelin. There was a smile in his eyes which Jacquelin, torturing himself as every fool under like circumstances does, interpreted as a glance of triumph, if not of positive compassion. This was the more biting to Jacquelin because it was at Dr. Cary’s that they met, and Blair was unusually gay that evening. Her cheeks, which were sometimes pale, were now flushed, Jacquelin felt, with pleasure at Middleton’s presence. She talked mainly to Middleton, to Jacquelin scarcely at all. At length Jacquelin rose and said he must go.
“Why, aren’t you going to stay to tea? I thought you were?” Blair asked, in genuine surprise. Her color had suddenly vanished, and she looked at him with a vague trouble in her eyes.
“Thank you, no,” said Jacquelin, shortly. “Good-evening, Captain Middleton.” He bowed ceremoniously.
“I had hoped to have the pleasure of riding back with you,” said Middleton.
“I am walking,” said Jacquelin, grimly. He went out. Blair excused herself hurriedly to Middleton. “Oh! Jacquelin,” she called, “will you take this letter for me, and mail it to-morrow morning?”
“Can’t I take it?” asked Middleton. “I am going by the office.”