The Two Elsies Page 7

  CHAPTER VII.

  FAIRVIEW AND ION.

  It had been a cloudy afternoon and the rain began to fall as, shortlyafter sunset, the Lelands left the cars for the Fairview family carriage.

  "A dismal home-coming for you, my love," remarked Lester, as the coachmanclosed the door on them and mounted to his perch again.

  "Oh, no!" returned Elsie brightly, "the rain is needed, and we are wellsheltered from it. Yet I fear it maybe dismal to Evelyn; but, my dearchild, try to keep up your spirits; it does not always rain in this partof the country."

  "Oh, no! of course not, auntie," said the little girl, with a low laughof amusement; "and I should not want to live here if it did not rainsometimes."

  "I should think not, indeed," said her uncle. "Well, Eva, we will hopethe warmth of your welcome will atone to you for the inclemency of theweather."

  "Yes," said Elsie, "we want you to feel that it is a home-coming to youas well as to us."

  "Thank you both very much," murmured Evelyn, her voice a little brokenwith the thought of her orphaned condition; "I shall try to deserve yourgreat kindness."

  "We have done nothing yet to call for so strong an expression ofgratitude, Eva," remarked her uncle in a lively tone.

  In kitchen and dining-room at Fairview great preparations were goingforward; in the one a table was laid, with the finest satin damask,glittering silver, cut-glass and china; in the other sounds and scentstold of a coming "feast of fat things."

  "Clar to goodness! ef it ain't a pourin' down like de clouds was awantin' for to drownd Miss Elsie an' de rest!" exclaimed a young mulattogirl, coming in from a back veranda, whence she had been taking anobservation of the weather; "an' its that dark, Aunt Kitty, yo' couldn'tsee yo' hand afo' yo' face."

  "Hope Uncle Cuff keep de road and don't upset de kerridge," returned AuntKitty, the cook, opening her oven-door to glance at a fine young fowlbrowning beautifully there, and sending forth a most savory smell.

  "He'd larf at de wery idear of upsettin' dat vehicle, he would, kase hetinks dar ain't nobody else knows de road ekal to hisself; but den 'taintalways de folks what makes de biggest boastin' dat kin do de best; am itnow, Lizzie?"

  "No, I reckon 'taint, Aunt Kitty; but doan you be a prognosticatin' obevil and skearin' folks out deir wits fo' de fac's am 'stablished."

  "An' ain't gwine fo' to be 'stablished," put in another voice; "'spose defamily been trabling roun' de worl' to come back an' git harm right afo'deir own do'? 'Co'se not."

  "Hark! dere dey is dis bressed minit', I hear de soun' o' de wheels andde hosses' feet," exclaimed Aunt Kitty, slamming to her oven-door, layingdown the spoon with which she had been basting her fowl, and hastilyexchanging her dark cotton apron for a white one.

  She brought up the rear of the train of servants gathering in the hall towelcome their master and mistress.

  A glad welcome it was; for both Lester and Elsie were greatly belovedby their dependents; and Evelyn, too, came in for a share of thehand-shakings, the "God bless yous," and was assured again and again thatshe was welcome to Fairview.

  "Well, Aunt Kitty, I suppose you have one of your excellent suppers readyfor us hungry travelers?" remarked Mr. Leland interrogatively, as hedivested himself of his duster.

  "I'se done de wery bes' I knows, sah," she answered, dropping a courtesyand smiling all over her face. "Eberyting am done to a turn, an' I hopesyou, sah, and de ladies mos' ready to eat afo' de tings get spoiled."

  "We won't keep your supper waiting many minutes, Aunt Kitty," said hermistress pleasantly.

  "Myra take the baby to the nursery. Evelyn, my dear, we will go up stairsand I will show you your room."

  Reaching the second floor, Elsie led the way into a spacious,luxuriously-furnished apartment.

  "This is your room, Eva," she said.

  "It is just across the hall from your uncle's and mine; so I hope youwill not feel lonely or timid. But if anything should alarm you at anytime, come to our door and call to us."

  "Thank you, dear Aunt Elsie. Such a beautiful room as it is!" exclaimedEvelyn. "How very kind you and Uncle Lester are to me!"

  There was a little tremble of emotion in the child's voice as she spoke.

  Elsie put her arms lovingly about her. "Dear child," she said, "how couldwe be otherwise? We want you to feel that this is truly your own home,and to be very happy in it."

  "I could not be so happy with any one else as with you and uncle,"returned the little girl, with a sigh to the memory of the father she hadloved so well.

  "And to-morrow you shall see what a sweet home this is," Elsie said,releasing her with a kiss.

  "Now we must hasten to make ourselves ready for supper. A change of dresswill not be necessary. There will be no company tonight, and your unclewould prefer seeing us in our traveling dresses to having his mealspoiled by waiting."

  Evelyn went to sleep that night to the music of the dashing of the rainupon the windows, but woke next morning to find the sun shining brightlyin a deep blue sky wherein soft, fleecy white clouds were floating.

  She drew aside the window curtain to take a peep at the surroundings ofher new home. Lawn, shrubbery, flower garden, while larger than those atCrag Cottage, were quite as well kept; neatness and order, beauty andfragrance made them so attractive that Evelyn was tempted to a strollwhile waiting for the call to breakfast.

  She stole softly down the stairs, thinking her aunt and uncle might bestill sleeping, but found the latter on the veranda, pacing to and frowith meditative air.

  "Ah, good morning, little maid!" he said in a kindly tone. "I hope youslept well and feel refreshed?"

  "Yes, uncle, thank you," she returned. "Don't you enjoy being at homeagain after your long absence?"

  "I do, indeed!" he answered; "there is no place like home, is there? Thisis your home, too, now, Eva."

  "Yes, sir," a little sadly. "You and Aunt Elsie are home to me now,almost as papa used to be in the dear old days; and perhaps I shall learnto love Fairview as well as I do Crag Cottage. May I go into the garden,uncle?"

  "Yes, I will take you with pleasure. Your shoes are thick I see,"glancing down at them, "and that is well; for the walks may be a littledamp."

  He led her about, calling her attention to one and another rare plant orflower in garden and green-house, and gathering a bouquet of beautifuland fragrant blossoms for her, then one for his wife.

  Elsie joined them on the veranda as they came in at the summons tobreakfast, and Lester presented his flowers, claiming a kiss in return.

  "Help yourself," she said laughingly; "and many thanks for your flowers.And now shall we go in to breakfast? we are a little late this morning."

  "Ah, our mail is already here, I see," Lester remarked, as they enteredthe breakfast-room. "I will open the bag while you pour the coffee, mydear, hoping to find a letter for each of us."

  "I think there should be one for me," remarked Evelyn, watching her unclewith wistful, longing eyes as he took out the letters and glanced overthe addresses; "for I have heard but once from mamma since she wentaway."

  "Twice now," her uncle said with a pleased smile, as he handed her thelonged-for missive.

  "You, too, hear from your mother this morning, my dear; and from severalother friends. Here, Jane," to the servant girl in waiting, "hand theseto your mistress."

  "And here is a cup of coffee to reward you; mamma's letter alone is worthit," responded Elsie gaily, lifting the letters from the silver waiter onwhich they lay, and setting there, in their stead, a delicate china cupfrom whose steaming contents a delicious aroma greeted the nostrils.

  "I must just peep into mamma's to see when we may expect them home," sheadded, breaking open its envelope; "the rest will keep till afterbreakfast."

  "When was Aunt Wealthy's birthday?" queried her husband.

  "Yesterday," she answered with her eyes on the letter. "Ah! Ned and Zoestart this morning for home. The rest will stay a week or so longer, andour cousins, Mr. and Mrs. Keith, and their daugh
ter, Annis, will soonfollow with the expectation of spending the winter as mamma's guests."

  "Will you excuse me, Aunt Elsie, if I open my letter now just for apeep?" asked Evelyn with a slight shy smile.

  "No, my dear, certainly not; as I never do the like myself, but alwayswait patiently till the meal is over," returned the young aunt withplayful irony.

  "Then I'll have to ask uncle or do it without permission," said Evelyn,blushing and laughing.

  "Hark to the answer coming from the chicken yard," said her unclefacetiously, as the loud crow of a cock broke in upon their talk.

  "I fail to catch your meaning, uncle," said Evelyn, with another blushand smile.

  "Listen!" he answered, "he will speak again presently, and tell me if hedoesn't say, 'Mistress rules here.' Some one has so interpreted it, and,I think, correctly.

  "Oh," exclaimed Evelyn, laughing; "then, of course, it is of no use toappeal from auntie's decisions."

  "No, even I generally do as I am bid," he remarked gravely.

  "And I almost always," said Elsie. "Eva, would you like to drive over toIon with me this morning?"

  "Very much indeed, Aunt Elsie," was the prompt and pleased reply.

  "Mamma wishes me to carry the news of the expected arrival of my brotherand his wife, and to see that all is in order for their reception," Elsiewent on.

  "And am I to be entirely neglected in your invitation?" asked herhusband, in a tone of deep pretended disappointment and chagrin.

  "Your company will be most acceptable, Mr. Leland, if you will favor uswith it," was the gay rejoinder. "Baby shall go, too; an airing will dohim good; and beside, mammy will want to see him."

  "Of course; for she looks upon him as a sort of great-grand child, doesshe not?" said Lester.

  "Either that or great-great," returned Elsie lightly.

  "Who is mammy?" asked Evelyn.

  "Mamma's old nurse, who had the care of her from her birth--indeed, andof her mother also--and has nursed each one of us in turn. Of course, weare all devotedly attached to her and she to us. Aunt Chloe is what sheis called by those who are not her nurslings."

  "She must be very, very old, I should think," observed Evelyn.

  "She is," said Elsie, and very infirm. No one knows her exact age, butshe cannot be much, if any younger than Aunt Wealthy, who has just passedher hundredth birthday; and I believe her to be, in fact, somewhatolder."

  "How I should like to see her!" exclaimed Evelyn.

  "I hope to give you that pleasure to-day," responded Elsie. "Until veryrecently she always accompanied mamma--no, I mistake; she staid behindonce; it was when Lilly was taken North as a last hope of saving her dearlife. Papa and mamma thought best to take me and the baby along, and toleave mammy behind in charge of the other children.

  "This summer she was too feeble to leave Ion; so we shall find her there.In deep sorrow too, no doubt; for her old husband, Uncle Joe, died a fewweeks since."

  "Eva must hear their story one of these days," remarked Mr. Leland; "itis very interesting."

  "Yes; and some of it very sad; that which occurred before mamma's visitto Viamede, after she had attained her majority. That visit was the dawnof brighter days to them. I will tell you the whole story, Eva, some timewhen we are sitting quietly together at our needlework, if you willremind me."

  "For what hour will you have the carriage ordered, my dear?" Lesterasked, as they left the table. "Ten, if you please," she answered. "Ihope you will go with us?"

  "I shall do so with pleasure," he said. "It is a lovely morning for adrive; the rain has laid the dust and the air is just cool enough to bebracing."

  Evelyn was on the veranda, gazing about her with a thoughtful air.

  "Well, lassie, what think you of Fairview?" asked her uncle, coming toher side.

  "I like it," she answered emphatically. "Didn't something happen here,uncle, in the time of the Ku-Klux raids? I seem to have heard there did."

  "Yes; a coffin, with a threatening notice attached, was laid at the gateyonder one night. My uncle owned, and lived on, the place at that time,and by reason of his northern birth and Republican sentiments, wasobnoxious to the members of the klan."

  "And it was he they were threatening?"

  "Yes. They afterward attacked the place, wounded and drove him into thewoods, but were held at bay and finally driven off by the gallant defenceof her home made by my aunt, assisted by her son, then quite a young boy.

  "But get Elsie to tell you the story; she can do it far better than I;especially as she was living at Ion at that time, and though a merechild, has still a vivid recollection of all the circumstances."

  "Yes," Elsie said, "including the attacks upon Ion--first the quarter,when they burnt the schoolhouse, and afterward the mansion--and severalsad scenes connected with them."

  "How interesting to hear all about them from an eye-witness," exclaimedEvelyn. "I am eager to have you begin, Aunt Elsie."

  "Perhaps I may be able to do so this evening," returned her aunt; "butnow I must give my orders for the day, and then it will be time for ourdrive."

  "What does your mamma say?" asked Lester of Evelyn, when Elsie had leftthem alone together.

  "Not very much that I care for, uncle," sighed the little girl. "She's ingood health, but very tired of foreign cookery; wishes she could havesuch a breakfast every morning as she has been accustomed to at home.Still she enjoys the sights, and thinks it may be a year, or longer,before she gets back. She describes some of the places, and paintings andstatuary she has seen; but that part of the letter I have not read yet."

  "Do you wish you were with her, Eva?" he asked, smoothing her hair as shestood by his side, and gazing down affectionately into her eyes.

  "No, uncle; I should like to see mamma, of course, but at present I likethis quiet home far better than going about among crowds of strangepeople."

  He looked pleased. "I am glad you are content," he said.

  Elsie was full of life and gayety as they set out upon their drive. Herhusband remarked it with pleasure.

  "Yes," she said lightly, "it is so nice to be going back to my old,childhood's home after so long an absence; to see mammy, too--dear oldmammy! And yet it will hardly seem like home either, without mamma."

  "No," he responded; "and it is quite delightful to look forward to havingher there again in a week or two."

  They had turned in at the great gates leading into the avenue, andpresently Elsie, glancing eagerly toward the house, exclaimed withdelight, "Ah, there is mammy on the veranda! watching for our coming, nodoubt. She knew we were expected at Fairview yesterday, and that I wouldnot be long in finding my way to Ion."

  Evelyn, looking out also, perceived a bent and shriveled form, seated inan arm-chair, leaning forward, its two dusky hands clasping a stout cane,and its chin resting on the top.

  As the carriage drew up before the entrance, the figure rose slowly andstiffly, and with the aid of the cane hobbled across the veranda to meetthem.

  "Bress de Lawd!" it cried, in accents tremulous with age and excitement,"it's one ob my chillens, sho' nuff; it's Miss Elsie!"

  "Yes, mammy, it is I; and very glad I am to see you," responded Mrs.Leland, hurrying up the veranda steps and throwing Her arms about thefeeble, trembling form.

  "Poor old mammy," she said, tenderly; "you are not so strong as you usedto be."

  "No, darlin', yo' ole mammy's mos' at de brink ob de riber; de coldwatahs ob Jordan soon be creepin' up roun' her ole feet."

  "But you are not afraid, mammy?" Elsie said, tears trembling in hersweet, soft eyes, so like her mother's.

  "No, chile, no; for Ise got fas' hold ob de Master's hand, and He holdsme tight; de waves can't go ober my head, kase He bought me wid his ownprecious blood and I b'longs to Him; and He always takes care ob his ownchillens."

  "Yes, Aunt Chloe," Lester said, taking one withered hand in his, as Elsiewithdrew herself from her embrace, and turned aside to wipe away a tear,"His purchased ones are safe for time an
d for eternity.

  "'The Lord God is a sun and shield; the Lord will give grace and glory.'"

  "Dat's so, sah; grace to lib by, an' grace to die by, den glory wid Himin heaben! Ole Uncle Joe done 'speriencin' dat now; an' byme-by dis chilebe wid him dar."

  "Who dis?" she asked, catching sight of Evelyn standing by her side andregarding her with tearful eyes.

  "My niece, Evelyn Leland, Aunt Chloe," answered Lester. "She has heard ofyou, and wanted to see you."

  "God bless you, honey," Chloe said, taking the little girl's hand inher's, and regarding her with a look of kindly interest.

  But the other servants had come flocking to the veranda as the news ofthe arrival passed from lip to lip; and now they crowded about Lester andElsie eager to shake their hands and bid them welcome home again,mingling with their rejoicings and congratulations many inquiries abouttheir loved mistress--her mother--and the other absent members of thefamily.

  And here, as at Fairview, Evelyn received her full share of pleasedattention.

  Elsie delivered her mother's messages and directions, and taking Evelynwith her, went through the house to see that all was in order for thereception of her brother and his wife, then sat down in the veranda for achat with "mammy" before returning to Fairview.

  "Mammy, dear," she said interrogatively, "you are not grieving very muchfor Uncle Joe?"

  "No, chile, no; he's in dat bressed land whar dah no mo' misery in deback, in de head, in any part ob de body; an' no mo' sin, no mo' sorrow,no mo' dyin', no mo' tears fallin' down the cheeks, no mo' trouble anykin'."

  "But don't you miss him very much, Aunt Chloe?" asked Evelyn softly, hervoice tremulous with the thought of her own beloved dead, and how sorelyshe felt his absence.

  "Yes, chile, sho I does, but 'twont be for long; Ise so ole and weak, datI knows Ise mos' dar, mos' dar!"

  The black, wrinkled face uplifted to the sky, almost shone with gladexpectancy, and the dim, sunken eyes grew bright for an instant with hopeand joy.

  Then turning them upon Evelyn, and, for the first time, taking note ofher deep mourning, "Po' chile," she said, in tender, pitying tones, "yo'sloss somebody dat yo' near kin?"

  Evelyn nodded, her heart too full for speech, and Elsie said softly, "Herdear father has gone to be forever with the Lord, in the blessed, happyland you have been speaking of, mammy."

  "Bressed, happy man!" ejaculated the aged saint, again lifting her faceheavenward, "an' bressed happy chile dat has de great an' mighty God forher father; kase de good book say, He is de father of de fatherless."

  A momentary hush fell upon the little group. Then Mr. Leland, who hadbeen looking into the condition of field and garden, as his wife intothat of the house, joined them and suggested that this would be a goodtime and place for the telling of the story Eva had been asking for;especially as, in Aunt Chloe, they had a second eye-witness.

  Elsie explained to her what was wanted.

  "Ah, chillens, dat was a terrible time," returned the old woman, sighingand shaking her head.

  "Yes, mammy," assented Elsie; "you remember it well?"

  "Deed I does, chile;" and rousing with the recollection into almostyouthful excitement and energy, she plunged into the story, telling it ina graphic way that enchained her listeners, though to two of them it wasnot new, and one occasionally assisted her memory or supplied a missinglink in the chain of circumstances.[A]

  [Footnote A: For the details of this story, see "Elsie's Motherhood."]