"There mightn't be much to choose, Co'nnle.""I admit it.We should both acknowledge our mistress, and be like wax in her hands.""Yo' ought to make that pooty speech to Sally Dows, she's generally mistress around here.But," she added, suddenly fixing her eyes on him, "how does it happen that yo' ain't walking with her instead of that Englishman? Yo' know that it's as plain as day that he took that land over there just to be near her, when he was no longer agent."But Courtland was always master of himself and quite at ease regarding Miss Sally when not in that lady's presence."You forget," he said smilingly, "that I'm still a stranger and knew little of the local gossip; and if I did know it, I am afraid we didn't bargain to buy up with the LAND Mr.Champney's personal interest in the LANDLADY.""Yo' 'd have had your hands full, for I reckon she's pooty heavily mortgaged in that fashion, already," returned Miss Reed with mere badinage than spitefulness in the suggestion."And Mr.Champney was run pooty close by a French cousin of hers when he was here.
Yo' haven't got any French books to lend me, co'nnle--have yo'?
Paw says you read a heap of French, and I find it mighty hard to keep up MY practice since I left the Convent at St.Louis, for paw don't knew what sort of books to order, and I reckon he makes awful mistakes sometimes."The conversation here turning upon polite literature, it appeared that Miss Octavia's French reading, through a shy, proud innocence and an imperfect knowledge of the wicked subtleties of the language, was somewhat broad and unconventional for a young lady.
Courtland promised to send her some books, and even ventured to suggest some American and English novels not intensely "No'th'n"nor "metaphysical"--according to the accepted Southern beliefs.Anew respect and pitying interest in this sullen, solitary girl, cramped by tradition, and bruised rather than enlightened by sad experiences, came over him.He found himself talking quite confidentially to the lifted head, arched eyebrows, and aquiline nose beside him, and even thinking what a handsome high-bred BROTHER she might have been to some one.When they had reached the house, in compliance with the familiar custom, he sat down on one of the lower steps of the veranda, while she, shaking out her skirt, took a seat a step or two above him.This enabled him, after the languid local fashion, to lean on his elbow and gaze up into the eyes of the young lady, while she with equal languor looked down upon him.But in the present instance Miss Reed leaned forward suddenly, and darting a sharp quick glance into his very consciousness said:--"And yo' mean to say, co'nnle, there's nothing between yo' and Sally Dows?"Courtland neither flushed, trembled, grew confused, nor prevaricated.
"We are good friends, I think," he replied quietly, without evasion or hesitation.
Miss Reed looked at him thoughtfully, "I reckon that is so--and no more.And that's why yo' 've been so lucky in everything," she said slowly.
"I don't think I quite understand," returned Courtland, smiling.
"Is this a paradox--or a consolation?"
"It's the TRUTH," said Miss Reed gravely."Those who try to be anything more to Sally Dows lose their luck.""That is--are rejected by her.Is she really so relentless?"continued Courtland gayly.
"I mean that they lose their luck in everything.Something is sure to happen.And SHE can't help it either.""Is this a Sibylline warning, Miss Reed?""No.It's nigger superstition.It came from Mammy Judy, Sally's old nurse.It's part of their regular Hoo-doo.She bewitched Miss Sally when she was a baby, so that everybody is bound to HER as long as they care for her, and she isn't bound to THEM in any way.
All their luck goes to her as soon as the spell is on them," she added darkly.
"I think I know the rest," returned Courtland with still greater solemnity."You gather the buds of the witch-hazel in April when the moon is full.You then pluck three hairs from the young lady's right eyebrow when she isn't looking"--"Yo' can laugh, co'nnle, for yo' 're lucky--because yo' 're free.""I'm not so sure of that," he said gallantly, "for I ought to be riding at this moment over to the Infirmary to visit my Sunday sick.If being made to pleasantly forget one's time and duty is a sign of witchcraft I am afraid Mammy Judy's enchantments were not confined to only one Southern young lady."The sound of quick footsteps on the gravel path caused them both to look up.A surly looking young fellow, ostentatiously booted and spurred, and carrying a heavy rawhide riding-whip in his swinging hand, was approaching them.Deliberately, yet with uneasy self-consciousness, ignoring the presence of Courtland, he nodded abruptly to Miss Reed, ascended the steps, brushed past them both without pausing, and entered the house.
"Is that yo'r manners, Mr.Tom?" called the young lady after him, a slight flush rising to her sallow cheek.The young man muttered something from the hall which Courtland did not catch."It's Cousin Tom Higbee," she explained half disdainfully."He's had some ugliness with his horse, I reckon; but paw ought to teach him how to behave.And--I don't think he likes No'th'n men," she added gravely.
Courtland, who had kept his temper with his full understanding of the intruder's meaning, smiled as he took Miss Reed's hand in parting."That's quite enough explanation, and I don't know why it shouldn't be even an apology."Yet the incident left little impression on him as he strolled back to Redlands.It was not the first time he had tasted the dregs of former sectional hatred in incivility and discourtesy, but as it seldom came from his old personal antagonists--the soldiers--and was confined to the callow youth, previous non-combatants and politicians, he could afford to overlook it.He did not see Miss Sally during the following week.