``Come into the garden, Davy,'' he said.
``When I have had my siesta,'' I answered.
``When you have had your siesta!'' he cried; ``since when did you begin to indulge in siestas?''
``To-day,'' I replied, and left him staring after me.
I reached my room, bolted the door, and lay down on my back to think.Little was needed to convince me now that Mrs.Clive was Mrs.Temple, and thus the lady's relapse when she heard that her son was in the house was accounted for.Instead of forming a plan, my thoughts drifted from that into pity for her, and my memory ran back many years to the text of good Mr.Mason's sermon, ``I have refined thee, but not with silver, I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction.'' What must Sarah Temple have suffered since those days! I remembered her in her prime, in her beauty, in her selfishness, in her cruelty to those whom she might have helped, and I wondered the more at the change which must have come over the woman that she had won the affections of this family, that she had gained the untiring devotion of Mademoiselle Antoinette.Her wit might not account for it, for that had been cruel.And something of the agony of the woman's soul as she lay in torment, facing the wall, thinking of her son under the same roof, of a life misspent and irrevocable, I pictured.
A stillness crept into the afternoon like the stillness of night.The wide house was darkened and silent, and without a sunlight washed with gold filtered through the leaves.There was a drowsy hum of bees, and in the distance the occasional languishing note of a bird singing what must have been a cradle-song.My mind wandered, and shirked the task that was set to it.
Could anything be gained by meddling? I had begun to convince myself that nothing could, when suddenly Icame face to face with the consequences of a possible marriage between Nick and Mademoiselle Antoinette.In that event the disclosure of his mother's identity would be inevitable.Not only his happiness was involved, but Mademoiselle's, her father's and her mother's, and lastly that of this poor hunted woman herself, who thought at last to have found a refuge.
An hour passed, and it became more and more evident to me that I must see and talk with Mrs.Temple.But how was I to communicate with her? At last I took out my portfolio and wrote these words on a sheet:--``If Mrs.Clive will consent to a meeting with Mr.David Ritchie, he will deem it a favor.Mr.Ritchie assures Mrs.
Clive that he makes this request in all friendliness.''
I lighted a candle, folded the note and sealed it, addressed it to Mrs.Clive, and opening the latticed door Istepped out.Walking along the gallery until I came to the rear part of the house which faced towards the out-buildings, I spied three figures prone on the grass under a pecan tree that shaded the kitchen roof.One of these figures was Benjy, and he was taking his siesta.Idescended quietly from the gallery, and making my way to him, touched him on the shoulder.He awoke and stared at me with white eyes.
``Marse Dave!'' he cried.
``Hush,'' I answered, ``and follow me.''
He came after me, wondering, a little way into the grove, where I stopped.
``Benjy,'' I said, ``do you know any of the servants here?''
``Lawsy, Marse Dave, I reckon I knows 'em,--some of 'em,'' he answered with a grin.
``You talk to them?''
``Shucks, no, Marse Dave,'' he replied with a fine scorn, ``I ain't no hand at dat ar nigger French.But I knows some on 'em, and right well too.''
``How?'' I demanded curiously.
Benjy looked down sheepishly at his feet.He was standing pigeon-toed.
``I done c'ressed some on 'em, Marse Dave,'' he said at length, and there was a note of triumph in his voice.
``You did what?'' I asked.
``I done kissed one of dem yaller gals, Marse Dave.
Yass'r, I done kissed M'lisse.''
``Do you think Melisse would do something for you if you asked her?'' I inquired.
Benjy seemed hurt.
``Marse Dave--'' he began reproachfully.
``Very well, then,'' I interrupted, taking the letter from my pocket, ``there is a lady who is ill here, Mrs.Clive--''
I paused, for a new look had come into Benjy's eyes.
He began that peculiar, sympathetic laugh of the negro, which catches and doubles on itself, and I imagined that a new admiration for me dawned on his face.
``Yass'r, yass, Marse Dave, I reckon M'lisse 'll git it to her 'thout any one tekin' notice.''
I bit my lips.
``If Mrs.Clive receives this within an hour, Melisse shall have one piastre, and you another.There is an answer.''
Benjy took the note, and departed nimbly to find Melisse, while I paced up and down in my uneasiness as to the outcome of the experiment.A quarter of an hour passed, half an hour, and then I saw Benjy coming through the trees.He stood before me, chuckling, and drew from his pocket a folded piece of paper.I gave him the two piastres, warned him if his master or any one inquired for me that I was taking a walk, and bade him begone.
Then I opened the note.
``I will meet you at the bayou, at seven this evening.Take the path that leads through the garden.''
I read it with a catch of the breath, with a certainty that the happiness of many people depended upon what I should say at that meeting.And to think of this and to compose myself a little, I made my way to the garden in search of the path, that I might know it when the time came.Entering a gap in the hedge, I caught sight of the shaded seat under the tree which had been the scene of our first meeting with Antoinette, and I hurried past it as I crossed the garden.There were two openings in the opposite hedge, the one through which Nick and I had come, and another.I took the second, and with little difficulty found the path of which the note had spoken.
