University of Virginia Library

9. CHAPTER IX.

Among Mr. Middleton's negroes was a boy twelve years of
age whose name was Bob. On the morning following the
incidents narrated in the last chapter, Bob was sent up to
make a fire for “the young marsters.” He had just coaxed
the kindlings and coal into a blaze, when Raymond awoke,
and spying the negro, called out, “Hallo there! Tom, Dick,
Harry, what's your name?”

“My name is Bob, sar,” said the negro.

“Oh, Bob, is it? Bob what? Have you no other
name?”

“No, sar, 'cept it's Marster Josh. I 'longs to him.”

“Belong to Master Josh, do you? His name isn't Josh,
it is Joshua.”

“Yes, marster.”

“Well then, Bob, if his name is Joshua, what must yours
be?” said Raymond.

“Dun know, unless it's Bobaway,” answered the negro
with a broad grin.

“Bobaway! that's rich,” said Raymond, laughing heartily
at the rapid improvement of his pupil.

After a moment's pause, he again called out, “I say,
Bobaway, did it snow last night?”

“No, sar, it didn't snew; it done frosted,” said Bob.

“Done frosted, hey?” said Raymond. “You're a smart
boy, Bob. What'll you sell yourself for?”

“Dun know; hain't nothin' to sell 'cept my t'other hat
and a bushel of hickory nuts,” answered Bob; “but I reckon
how marster ax about five hundred, 'case I's right spry when
I hain't got the rheumatiz.”

“Got the rheumatiz, have you, Bob? Where?”

“In my belly, sar,” answered Bob. Here all the young
men burst into a loud laugh, and Raymond said, “Five hundred
is cheap, Bob; I'll give more than that.”

Bob opened his large white eyes to their utmost extent,
and looking keenly at Raymond, slowly quitted the room.
On reaching the kitchen he told Aunt Judy, who was his
mother, “that ef marster ever acted like he was goin' for to
sell him to that ar chap, what poked fun at him, he'd run
away, sartin.”

“And be cotched and git shet up,” said Aunt Judy.

“I'd a heap rather be shet up 'tarnally than to 'long to
any body 'sides marster Josh,” said Bob.

During breakfast Mr. Middleton suddenly exclaimed,
while looking at Stanton, “I've been tryin' ever since you've
been here, to think who you look like, and I've jest thought.
It's Dr. Lacey.”

“Who, sir?” said Stanton in some surprise.

“Dr. Lacey. D'ye know him?” asked Mr. Middleton.

“Dr. Lacey of New Orleans?” asked Stanton.

“The same,” returned Mr. Middleton. “You look as
much alike as two peas, only you wear goggles. Connection
of your'n I reckon?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Stanton. “Dr. Lacey of New Orleans
is my cousin. I have been told that we resemble each
other.”

“By Jupiter!” said Mr. Middleton, “that's just the

checker. No wonder I like you so well. And Dr. Lacey
goin' to marry Sunshine too. Your sweetheart ought to look
like Fanny. Got her picter, hey?”

Stanton handed him Nellie's daguerreotype, and he pretended
to discover a close resemblance between her and
Fanny; but neither Mrs. Middleton, nor Mrs. Ashton could
trace any, for which Mr. Middleton called them both blockheads.

“I think,” said Mrs. Middleton, “that she looks more
like Mr. Ashton, than she does like Fanny.”

“It is similarity of name which makes her resemble him,”
said Raymond.

“Why, is her name Ashton?” asked Middleton.

“Yes sir,” said Stanton.

“Mebby she's your sister, Ashton. But Lord knows she
don't look no more like you than she does like old Josh.”

“She cannot be my sister,” said Ashton, “for I had but
one, and she is dead.”

After breakfast Mr. Middleton ordered out his carriage,
and bade Ike drive the gentlemen to Frankfort?

“I'd go myself,” said he, “but I've got a fetched[1] headache.
Give my love to my gals, and tell 'em I'm comin' to
see 'em shortly. You'd better go to the Whizzakor House,
till you find out whether or no Miss Crane 'll board you.”

The young men thanked him for his hospitality, and
bade him good morning. As they were leaving the yard,
they passed Bob, who was still limping with the rheumatiz.”
Raymond bade Ike stop, while he threw “Bobaway” some
pennies. Bob picked them up and looked at them with a
rueful face.

“What's the matter, Bobaway?” said Raymond, “Don't
they suit?”

“No sar,” said Bob. “I likes fopences; I don't want
nothin' of these old iron rocks.”

Each of the men threw Bob a sixpence, for which they
were rewarded with a sight of his ivories and a loud “thankee-sar.”
After a ride of two hours they reached the Weisiger
House in Frankfort. Soon after arriving there, Mr. Ashton
introduced Stanton into one of the best law offices in
town, and then repaired to his former lodgings.

In the course of the afternoon Raymond sought out Mr.
Miller, and with a somewhat quizzical face, handed him Mr.
Middleton's letter of introduction. After reading it, Mr.
Miller offered his hand to Raymond, and said, “I am glad,
Mr. Raymond, that you happened here just at this time, for
my school is large, and I am in want of a classical teacher.
You are a graduate of Yale, it seems?”

“Yes, sir,” returned Raymond; “and, by the way, Mr.
Middleton told me that you had won a New Haven girl—
Miss Kate Wilmot. I knew her very well.”

“Ah, is it possible?” said Mr. Miller, his face beaming
with animation at the mention of his beautiful wife. “Come
with me to Mrs. Crane's,” said he: “Kate will be glad to
see an old friend.”

“Thank you,” answered Raymond; “but I have a companion
with me, a Mr. Stanton, who also knew Miss Wilmot.
He is going into a law office here. We both of us intend
calling at Mrs. Crane's this evening, and if possible we shall
procure board there.”

So they parted, and Raymond returned to the Weisiger
House, while Mr. Miller hastened home to make some inquiries
of Kate, concerning his new assistant, and to inform
Mrs. Crane of her prospect for more boarders.

That evening Stanton and Raymond called. They found
assembled in Mrs. Crane's parlor, Mr. and Mrs. Miller, Mrs.
Carrington and Julia. Kate instantly recognized the young

gentlemen as old acquaintances, and presented them to her
friends. When Stanton entered the room, all observed the
strong resemblance between him and Dr. Lacey. At last
Mr. Miller spoke of it, and Stanton replied, “Yes, I've been
told so before. Dr. Lacey is my cousin.”

“Indeed!” said Mr. Miller. Then turning to his wife, he
added, “Where is Fanny? She ought to be here. It might
do her almost as much good as seeing the Dr. himself.”

“I should like to see Miss Fanny,” said Stanton, “as I
am told she is to be my cousin.”

A malicious smile curled Julia's lip, as she thought, “I
think it is very doubtful whether she is ever your cousin;”
but Mrs. Miller arose and said, “I think she is in her room.
I will call her.”

Going to Fanny's room, she knocked gently at the door:
there was no response, and she knocked again more loudly.
But still there was no answer; and Mrs. Miller thought she
could distinguish a low, stifled sob. Pushing open the door,
she saw the usually gay-hearted Fanny, seated on the floor,
her head resting on a chair, over which her long bright hair
fell like a golden gleam of sunlight. A second glance convinced
Kate that Fanny was weeping.

“Why, Fanny,” said she, “what is the matter? What
are you crying for?”

Fanny did not reply, but as Mrs. Miller drew her up
from the floor and placed her on the sofa, she laid her head
in Kate's lap and wept still more passionately. At length
Mrs. Miller succeeded in soothing her, and then insisted on
knowing what was the cause of her distress.

“Oh,” said Fanny, “do not ask me, for I can only tell
you that nobody loves me long at a time—nobody but my
dear old father, mother, and the blacks.”

“You should not say so, Fanny dear,” said Kate. “You
know we all love you very much, and you say that within

a few weeks Julia has been uniformly kind and affectionate
to you.”

“Yes, I know she is, but —”

“But what?” said Mrs. Miller. “Any thing the trouble
with Dr. Lacey?”

“Yes, that's it! that's it?” said Fanny, in a low tone.

“Why, what is the matter? Is he sick?” asked Kate.

“Oh no. If he were I could go to him. But, Mrs. Miller,
for four long weeks he has not written me one word.
Now if he were sick or dead, somebody would write to me;
but it isn't that,—I am afraid he's false. Julia thinks he is,
and she is sorry for me, there is some comfort in that.”

“Not written in four weeks? Perhaps he has written
and his letters have been miscarried,” said Kate.

“Oh no, that cannot be,” answered Fanny. “His first
four letters came in the course of two weeks, but since then
I have not had a word.”

“Have you written to him since his letters ceased?”
asked Kate.

“Yes, once, and I am sorry I did,” answered Fanny; “but
I asked Julia if I had better write, and she said it would do
no harm.”

“Perhaps,” said Mrs. Miller, “he is intending to return
soon and wishes to surprise you, or it may be he is testing
the strength of your attachment. But I would not suffer
myself to be so much distressed until I was sure he was false.
Come, dry your eyes and go with me to the parlor. There
are some young gentlemen there from New-York. One of
them is Dr. Lacey's cousin. He wishes to see you.”

“Oh no, no!” said Fanny quickly. “I cannot go down.
You must excuse me to him.”

So Mrs. Miller returned to the parlor, and said Fanny was
not feeling very well and wished to be excused.

Stanton and Raymond passed a very pleasant evening,

and ere its close they had arranged with Mrs. Crane for
rooms and board. On their way to the Hotel, Raymond
suddenly exclaimed, “I say, Bob, I'm over head and ears in
love!”

“In love with whom?” was Stanton's quiet reply.

“In love with whom?” repeated Raymond. “Why,
Bob, is it possible your head is so full of Nellie Ashton, that
you do not know that we have been in company this evening
with a perfect Hebe, an angel, a divine creature?”

“Please stop,” said Stanton “and not deal in so many
superlatives. Which of the fair ladies made such havoc of
your heart? Was it Mrs. Crane?”

“Mrs. Crane! Witch of Endor, just as soon,” answered
Raymond. “Why, man alive, 'twas the beautiful Mrs. Carrington.
I tell you what, Bob, my destiny is upon me and
she is its star. I see in her my future wife.”

“Why, Fred,” said Mr. Stanton, “are you crazy? Mrs.
Carrington is at least nearly thirty, and you are not yet
twenty-five.”

“I don't care for that,” replied Raymond. “She may be
thirty, and she may be a hundred; but she looks sixteen. Such
glorious eyes I never saw. And she almost annihilated me
with one of her captivating smiles. Her name, too, is my
favorite.”

“Her name? Pray how did you learn her name?”
asked Stanton.

“Why,” answered Raymond, “you know we were talking
together a part of the evening. Our conversation turned
upon names and I remarked that Ida was my favorite. Bob,
you ought to have seen her smile as she told me Ida was her
own name. Perhaps I said something foolish, for I replied
that Ida was a beautiful name and only fitted for such as
she; but she smiled still more sweetly, and said I knew how
to flatter.”

“Well,” answered Stanton, “I hardly think you will win
her, if what our friend Ashton said is true. You have no
million to offer her.”

“Oh, fly on your million!” said Raymond. “She's got
to have me any way. If I can't get her by fair means, I'll
resort to stratagem.”

Thus the young man raved for nearly half an hour about
Mrs. Carrington, whose handsome features, glossy curls,
bright eyes, brilliant complexion and agreeable manners had
nearly turned his head. Mrs. Carrington too had received
an impression. There was something in Raymond's dashing
manner, which she called “air,” and she felt greatly pleased
with his flattering compliments. She thought he would be
a very pleasant companion to flirt with for an hour or two;
but could she have known what his real intentions concerning
her were, she would have spurned him with contempt,
—as she afterwards did.

The next day at dinner Stanton and Raymond took their
seats at Mrs. Crane's table. To Raymond's great delight,
Mrs. Carrington sat opposite him. Stanton occupied Dr.
Lacey's seat, which brought Fanny directly in front of him.
Fanny had been prepared in a measure for the striking resemblance
between Stanton and Dr. Lacey; but when she
was introduced to him, his looks brought Dr. Lacey so forcibly
before her, that she instantly grew pale, and half wished
to leave the room. But a look of Mrs. Miller reassured her,
and she took her accustomed seat at the table.

Ere dinner was over, she had forgotten for the time her
lover's neglect, and was in the midst of an animated conversation
with Stanton, who was much pleased with his
cousin's choice. Stanton's looks and manners were so much
like Dr. Lacey's, that Fanny felt herself irresistibly drawn
towards him, and her face assumed a brighter aspect than it
had worn for many days. Julia watched her closely, and

felt that nothing could please her better than a flirtation between
Stanton and her sister.

But such was not a part of Fanny's intentions. She
liked Stanton because he was agreeable, intelligent, and Dr.
Lacey's cousin; but she would sooner have parted with
her right hand than have done any thing inconsistent with
her engagement with Dr. Lacey. On the other hand, Stanton's
heart was too strongly fortified with Nellie's charms to
admit of an entrance to the gentle Fanny. But he admired
her very much, and seemed to think that she had some claim
upon him in the absence of his cousin.

Thus as days wore on, his polite attentions towards
Fanny increased, and Julia resolved to make this fact work
for the accomplishment of her designs.