Part 33 (1/2)

Jinny is reading to him now, or she would be here to entertain you, Mr.

Brice. Jackson!” cried Mr. Carvel, ”show Mr. Brice to his room.”

Jackson appeared hurriedly, seized Stephen's bag, and led the way upstairs through the cool and darkened house to a pretty little room on the south side, with matting, and roses on the simple dressing-table.

After he had sat awhile staring at these, and at the wet flower-garden from between the slats of his shutters, he removed the signs of the railroad upon him, and descended. The Colonel was still on the porch, in his easy-chair. He had lighted another, cigar, and on the stand beside him stood two tall gla.s.ses, green with the fresh mint. Colonel Carvel rose, and with his own hand offered one to Stephen.

”Your health, Mr. Brice,” he said, ”and I hope you will feel at home here, sir. Jackson will bring you anything you desire, and should you wish to drive, I shall be delighted to show you the country.”

Stephen drank that julep with reverence, and then the Colonel gave him a cigar. He was quite overcome by this treatment of a penniless young Yankee. The Colonel did not talk politics--such was not his notion of hospitality to a stranger. He talked horse, and no great discernment on Stephen's part was needed to perceive that this was Mr. Carvel's hobby.

”I used to have a stable, Mr. Brice, before they ruined gentleman's sport with these trotters ten years ago. Yes sir, we used to be at Lexington one week, and Louisville the next, and over here on the Ames track after that. Did you ever hear of Water Witch and Netty Boone?”

Yes, Stephen had, from Mr. Jack Brinsmade.

The Colonel's face beamed.

”Why, sir,” he cried, ”that very n.i.g.g.e.r, Ned, who drove you here from the cars-he used to ride Netty Boone. Would you believe that, Mr. Brice?

He was the best jockey ever strode a horse on the Elleardsville track here. He wore my yellow and green, sir, until he got to weigh one hundred and a quarter. And I kept him down to that weight a whole year, Mr. Brice. Yes, sirree, a whole year.”

”Kept him down!” said Stephen.

”Why, yes, sir. I had him wrapped in blankets and set in a chair with holes bored in the seat. Then we lighted a spirit lamp under him. Many a time I took off ten pounds that way. It needs fire to get flesh off a n.i.g.g.e.r, sir.”

He didn't notice his guest's amazement.

”Then, sir,” he continued, ”they introduced these d.a.m.ned trotting races; trotting races are for white trash, Mr. Brice.”

”Pa!”

The Colonel stopped short. Stephen was already on his feet. I wish you could have seen Miss Virginia Carvel as he saw her then. She wore a white lawn dress. A tea-tray was in her hand, and her head was tilted back, as women are apt to do when they carry a burden. It was so that these Southern families, who were so bitter against Abolitionists and Yankees, entertained them when they were poor, and nursed them when they were ill.

Stephen, for his life, could not utter a word. But Virginia turned to him with perfect self-possession.

”He has been boring you with his horses, Mr. Brice,” she said. ”Has he told you what a jockey Ned used to be before he weighed one hundred and a quarter?” (A laugh.) ”Has he given you the points of Water Witch and Netty Boone?” (More laughter, increasing embarra.s.sment for Stephen.) ”Pa, I tell you once more that you will drive every guest from this house. Your jockey talk is intolerable.”

O that you might have a notion of the way in which Virginia p.r.o.nounced intolerable.

Mr. Carvel reached for another cigar asked, ”My dear,” he asked, ”how is the Judge?”

”My dear,” said Virginia, smiling, ”he is asleep. Mammy Easter is with him, trying to make out what he is saying. He talks in his sleep, just as you do--”

”And what is he saying?” demanded the Colonel, interested.

Virginia set down the tray.

”'A house divided against itself,'” said Miss Carvel, with a sweep of her arm, ”'cannot stand. I believe that this Government cannot endure permanently, half slave and half free. I do not expect the Union to dissolve--I do not expect the house to fall--but I do expect it will cease to be divided.' Would you like any more?” added Miss Virginia.

”No,” cried the Colonel, and banged his fist down on the table. ”Why,”

said he, thoughtfully, stroking the white goatee on his chin, ”cuss me if that ain't from the speech that country b.u.mpkin, Lincoln, made in June last before the Black Republican convention in Illinois.”