There were not many changes made in the house, because practically there was no way of making them. The town was not full of opportunities. The people were slow and inactive. Jose de Barryos had owned a huge cotton plantation just outside the limits of the town, and had been contented to have his dwelling-place there, though it must be confessed that he had not spent much of his time at home. He and his wife had not agreed sufficiently well to permit their living very comfortably under the same roof for any length of time together. And she had remained there after his death because she lacked the energy to do anything else.
But it was not the sort of place in which Mrs. Chalmers could be long content. She was not surprised, as she sat one evening upon the lawn near the fountain, with the sweet southern air blowing lazily about her, to receive a visit from her daughter.
The girl threw herself upon the grass and looked up indolently.
"I say," she exclaimed in a tone that was low, almost thrilling, "this is dead slow! And I am tired of the whole thing. I don't think I could stand it another week for all the fortune that black thing possesses!"
"Jessica!"
"Oh, bah! You are doing the delicately virtuous with a vengeance, and it is that which adds to my ennui almost more than this enervating atmosphere. Call a halt, can't you? One can't speak of that little backwoods thing but you are up in arms!"
"She is beautiful!"
"Yes; but with about as much style as one of these buzzards that are so disgustingly plentiful. Her big eyes are uncanny, and that chalky complexion looks like the first indication of decay. She looks like one of the mulatto girls that abound in these parts. I am seriously afraid that some one will think that we've brought a negro home with us!"
"Jessica, for the love of Heaven, hush! If she should hear you, she would never forgive you in the world!"
"And what an awful calamity that would be!" sneered the girl, gracefully drawing a blade of long grass through her lips. "This place will be good enough when this absurd time of mourning is passed and we can fill it with guests; but until it is, for the Lord's sake, let's cut it all and run. I can't stand it!"