This unpleasantness, however, had been brewing for a long time; but hitherto, if one had lost temper, the other had always prudently remembered that they were in the fierce light that beats upon all paragons, and wisely refrained from adding to the flame. But at last there was a culmination behind closed doors, and when Solon and Juno arose at daylight neither had yielded a single point.
The most mortifying part of the whole proceeding to Solon was the fact that he had just “experienced religion,” and this disgraceful thing coming close upon the second week was certainly a most painful “falling from grace,” and he groaned in spirit lest the news should be noised abroad.
Juno, however, had no such qualms of conscience, for, though she went to “meeting” persistently, her service was of the even, regular variety, and as she was never known to shout, and had never “come under conviction,” ’Zorter Blalock, newly come into that fold, took her under especial consideration, and prayed nightly for “dem needer hot, needer cole, les’ dey be spit outen de mouf, O Lord!”
Juno raised no question as to the genuineness of Solon’s religion; but she had her own grievance against him; for in her old age Juno had grown jealous; and at last, from much dwelling upon some recent occurrences simultaneous with Solon’s profession, Juno had become suspicious.
Twice of late Solon had asked for a pass to the adjoining plantation; the last time she knew he had to swim the creek, for the water was up, there was no one at the ferry that time of night, and he couldn’t have taken a mule without waking John, who was most unobliging in such matters. Then, more positive proof than anything else, Solon’s head was very wet when he came in, along towards day, and he was very surly when questioned about it.
“Gittin’ ’ligion go mighty hard wid you, Solon,” said Juno. “Hit keep you outen you’ bed when hones’ folks is all ersleep. You does lack you tryin’ ter lay er ghos’, ’steader gittin’ peace.”
Juno, typical of her race, and particularly of her sex, though possessing no occult gifts of her own, was very superstitious, and, goaded by her suspicions, resolved to make use of the simple means within her reach; so, begging some coffee-grounds of Aunt Susan, the cook at the Big House, she “turned the three cups of her fortune,” for she felt that something was going wrong.
The first and second cups were barren of information, they represented youth, and the grounds did not even “wash.” But the third—ah! she knew it—Solon was deep in mischief, for this was the way it read:
That spot represented herself. There was a cross by it; that represented trouble—no, it did not mean death. That clear space represented water—the cross pointed that way, towards the north. Bowen’s plantation was north: that was where Solon went. Across the water was another cross—trouble again. Beyond the cross was an eagle—that meant luck; but between the cross and the eagle, close to the cross—in fact, an arm of the cross pointed right to it—was a (Juno rubbed her eyes and looked again, then she pulled her brass specs, which she seldom used, down upon her nose and took the cup to the window)—was a woman!
Her hand trembled a little with indecision, then, forgetful of the borrowed cup, she threw it into the grove. So the quarrel had come about without a happy solution of the difficulty, for Solon sullenly but persistently declared his innocence of offence, while Juno as persistently put the question.