The grand old trees cast broad shadows on the lawn, and the shrubbery of the garden gleamed in the soft moonlight. She felt solitary without any one to speak to, and, being accustomed to have her whims gratified, she was rather impatient under the prohibition laid upon her. She rung the bell and requested Venus to bring her shawl. The obsequious dressing-maid laid it lightly on her shoulders, and holding out a white nubia of zephyr worsted, she said, "P"r"aps missis would like to war dis ere." She stood watching while her mistress twined the gossamer fabric round her head with careless grace. She opened the door for her to pa.s.s out on the veranda, and as she looked after her she muttered to herself, "She"s a pooty missis; but not such a gran"
hansom lady as turrer." A laugh shone through her dark face as she added, ""T would be curus ef she should fine turrer missis out dar."
As she pa.s.sed through the parlor she glanced at the large mirror, which dimly reflected her dusky charms, and said with a smile: "Ma.s.sa knows what"s hansome. He"s good judge ob we far s.e.x."
The remark was inaudible to the bride, who walked up and down the veranda, ever and anon glancing at the garden walks, to see if Gerald were in sight. She had a little plan of hiding among the vines when she saw him coming, and peeping out suddenly as he approached. She thought to herself she should look so pretty in the moonlight, that he would forget to chide her. And certainly she was a pleasant vision.
Her fairy figure, enveloped in soft white folds of muslin, her delicate complexion shaded by curls so fair that they seemed a portion of the fleecy nubia, were so perfectly in unison with the mild radiance of the evening, that she seemed like an embodied portion of the moonlight. Gerald absented himself so long that her little plan of surprising him had time to cool. She paused more frequently in her promenade, and looked longer at the distant sparkle of the sea.
Turning to resume her walk, after one of these brief moments of contemplation, she happened to glance at the lattice-work of the veranda, and through one of its openings saw a large, dark eye watching her. She started to run into the house, but upon second thought she called out, "Gerald, you rogue, why didn"t you speak to let me know you were there?" She darted toward the lattice, but the eye disappeared. She tried to follow, but saw only a tall shadow gliding away behind the corner of the house. She pursued, but found only a tremulous reflection of vines in the moonlight. She kept on round the house, and into the garden, frequently calling out, "Gerald!
Gerald!" "Hark! hark!" she murmured to herself, as some far-off tones of "Toll the bell" floated through the air. The ghostly moonlight, the strange, lonely place, and the sad, mysterious sounds made her a little afraid. In a more agitated tone, she called Gerald again. In obedience to her summons, she saw him coming toward her in the garden walk. Forgetful of her momentary fear, she sprang toward him, exclaiming: "Are you a wizard? How did you get there, when two minutes ago you were peeping at me through the veranda lattice?"
"I haven"t been there," he replied; "but why are you out here, Lily, when I particularly requested you to stay in the house till I came?"
"O, you were so long coming, that I grew tired of being alone. The moonlight looked so inviting that I went out on the veranda to watch for you; and when I saw you looking at me through the lattice, I ran after you, and couldn"t find you."
"I haven"t been near the lattice," he replied. "If you saw somebody looking at you, I presume it was one of the servants peeping at the new missis."
"None of your tricks!" rejoined she, snapping her fingers at him playfully. "It was _your_ eye that I saw. If it weren"t for making you vain, I would ask you whether your handsome eyes could be mistaken for the eyes of one of your negroes. But I want you to go with me to that bower down there."
"Not to-night, dearest," said he. "I will go with you to-morrow."
"Now is just the time," persisted she. "Bowers never look so pretty as by moonlight. I don"t think you are very gallant to your bride to refuse her such a little favor."
Thus urged, he yielded, though reluctantly, to her whim. As she entered the bower, and turned to speak to him, the moonlight fell full upon her figure. "What a pretty little witch you are!" he exclaimed.
"My Lily Bell, my precious pearl, my sylph! You look like a spirit just floated down from the moon."
"All moonshine!" replied she, with a smile.
He kissed the saucy lips, and the vines which had witnessed other caresses in that same bower, a few months earlier, whispered to each other, but told no tales. She leaned her head upon his bosom, and looking out upon the winding walks of the garden, so fair and peaceful in sheen and shadow, she said that her new home was more beautiful than she had dreamed. "Hark!" said she, raising her head suddenly, and listening. "I thought I heard a sigh."
"It was only the wind among the vines," he replied. "Wandering about in the moonlight has made you nervous."
"I believe I _was_ a little afraid before you came," said she. "That eye looking at me through the lattice gave me a start; and while I was running after your shadow, I heard that voice again singing, "Toll the bell." I wonder how you can be so indifferent about such a remarkable voice, when you are such a lover of music."
"I presume, as I told you before, that it was one of the darkies,"
rejoined he. "I will inquire about it to-morrow."
"I should sooner believe it to be the voice of an angel from heaven, than a darky," responded the bride. "I wish I could hear it again before I sleep."
In immediate response to her wish, the full rich voice she had invoked began to sing an air from "Norma," beginning, "O, how his art deceived thee!"
Fitzgerald started so suddenly, he overturned a seat near them.
"Hush!" she whispered, clinging to his arm. Thus they stood in silence, she listening with rapt attention, he embarra.s.sed and angry almost beyond endurance. The enchanting sounds were obviously receding.
"Let us follow her, and settle the question who she is," said Lily, trying to pull him forward. But he held her back strongly.
"No more running about to-night," he answered almost sternly. Then, immediately checking himself, he added, in a gentler tone: "It is imprudent in you to be out so long in the evening air; and I am really very tired, dear Lily. To-morrow I will try to ascertain which of the servants has been following you round in this strange way."
"Do you suppose any servant could sing _that_?" she exclaimed.
"They are nearly all musical, and wonderfully imitative," answered he.
"They can catch almost anything they hear." He spoke in a nonchalant tone, but she felt his arm tremble as she leaned upon it. He had never before made such an effort to repress rage.
In tones of tender anxiety, she said: "I am afraid you are very tired, dear. I am sorry I kept you out so long."
"I am rather weary," he replied, taking her hand, and holding it in his. He was so silent as they walked toward the house, that she feared he was seriously offended with her.
As they entered the parlor she said, "I didn"t think you cared about my not going out, Gerald, except on account of my taking cold; and with my shawl and nubia I don"t think there was the least danger of that. It was such a beautiful night, I wanted to go out to meet you, dear."
He kissed her mechanically, and replied, "I am not offended, darling."
"Then, if the blue devils possess you, we will try Saul"s method of driving them away," said she. She seated herself at the piano, and asked him whether he would accompany her with voice or flute. He tried the flute, but played with such uncertainty, that she looked at him with surprise. Music was the worst remedy she could have tried to quiet the disturbance in his soul; for its voice evoked ghosts of the past.
"I am really tired, Lily," said he; and, affecting a drowsiness he did not feel, he proposed retiring for the night.
The chamber was beautiful with the moon shining through its rose-tinted drapery, and the murmur of the ocean was a soothing lullaby. But it was long before either of them slept; and when they slumbered, the same voice went singing through their dreams. He was in the flowery parlor at New Orleans, listening to "The Light of other Days"; and she was following a veiled shadow through a strange garden, hearing the intermingled tones of "Norma" and "Toll the bell."
It was late in the morning when she awoke. Gerald was gone, but a bouquet of fragrant flowers lay on the pillow beside her. Her dressing-gown was on a chair by the bedside, and Venus sat at the window sewing.
"Where is Mr. Fitzgerald?" she inquired.
"He said he war gwine to turrer plantation on business. He leff dem flower dar, an" tole me to say he "d come back soon."
The fair hair was neatly arranged by the black hands that contrasted so strongly with it. The genteel little figure was enveloped in a morning-dress of delicate blue and white French cambric, and the little feet were ensconced in slippers of azure velvet embroidered with silver. The dainty breakfast, served on French porcelain, was slowly eaten, and still Gerald returned not. She removed to the chamber window, and, leaning her cheek on her hand, looked out upon the sun-sparkle of the ocean. Her morning thought was the same with which she had pa.s.sed into slumber the previous night. How strange it was that Gerald would take no notice of that enchanting voice! The incident that seemed to her a charming novelty had, she knew not why, cast a shadow over the first evening in their bridal home.
CHAPTER XII.
Mr. Fitzgerald had ordered his horse to be saddled at an earlier hour than Tom had ever known him to ride, except on a hunting excursion, and in his own mind he concluded that his master would be asleep at the hour he had indicated. Before he stretched himself on the floor for the night, he expressed this opinion to the cook by saying, "Yer know, Dinah, white folks is allers mighty wide awake de night afore dey gits up."
To his surprise, however, Mr. Fitzgerald made his appearance at the stable just as he was beginning to comb the horse. "You lazy black rascal," he exclaimed, "didn"t I order you to have the horse ready by this time?"
"Yes, Ma.s.sa," replied Tom, sheering out of the way of the upraised whip; "but it peers like Ma.s.sa"s watch be leetle bit faster dan de sun dis ere mornin"."
The horse was speedily ready, and Tom looked after his master as he leaped into the saddle and dashed off in the direction of the lonely cottage. There was a grin on his face as he muttered, "Reckon Missis don"t know whar yer gwine." He walked toward the house, whistling, "Nelly was a lady."
"Dat ar war gwine roun" an" roun" de hus las" night, jes like a sperit. "Twar dat ar Spanish lady," said Dinah.
"She sings splendiferous," rejoined Tom, "an" Ma.s.sa liked it more dan de berry bes bottle ob wine." He ended by humming, "Now all dem happy days am ober."
"Better not let Ma.s.sa hear yer sing dat ar," said Dinah. "He make yer sing nudder song."
"She"s mighty gran" lady, an" a bery perlite missis, an" Ise sorry fur her," replied Tom.
Mr. Fitzgerald had no sense of refreshment in his morning ride. He urged his horse along impatiently, with brow contracted and lips firmly compressed. He was rehearsing in his mind the severe reprimand he intended to bestow upon Rosa. He expected to be met with tears and reproaches, to which he would show himself hard till she made contrite apologies for her most unexpected and provoking proceedings. It was his purpose to pardon her at last, for he was far enough from wishing to lose her; and she had always been so gentle and submissive, that he entertained no doubt the scene would end with a loving willingness to accept his explanations, and believe in his renewed professions. "She loves me to distraction, and she is entirely in my power," thought he.
"It will be strange indeed if I cannot mould her as I will."
Arrived at the cottage, he found Tulee washing on a bench outside the kitchen. "Good morning, Tulee," said he. "Is your mistress up yet?"