University of Virginia Library

12. CHAPTER XII.

The next morning, Rondeau waited a long time for his
master's usual orders that he should go to the post-office;
but no such command came, and as Dr. Lacey had not been
heard moving in his room yet, Rondeau concluded to go at
all events.

“I know” said he, “that'll be the first thing he'll tell
me to do, and I may as well go on my own hook, as to wait
and be sent.”

Accordingly he again started for the post-office, thinking
to himself, “I hope that marster'll git a letter this time, for
he don't seem no more like the wide-awake chap he did
when he first come from Kentuck, than nothin'. I don't
want him to have Miss Mabel no how; for their niggers say
she's awful spunky.”

By the time this soliloquy was ended, he had reached
the office. The clerk handed him two letters, both of which
Rondeau eyed sharply. On looking at the second, the cavity
between his ears widened to an enormous extent, and he
gave vent to his joy by uttering aloud, “Crackee, this is jest
the thing!”

“What's the matter, Rondeau? Can you read writing?”
asked the clerk in some surprise.

“No sir, not but a little,” said Rondeau; “but I know this
hand write, I reckon.”

In a twinkling, he was in the street. “This is a fine
morning,” thought he. “I've got the right letter this time,
so I won't hurry home, for marster ain't goin' to find any
fault if I don't get that till noon.”

So the next hour was spent in gossiping with all the
blacks which could be found lounging round the streets.
Suddenly one of the negroes called out, “Ho, Rondeau! thar's
yer old marster Lacey comin'. You'd better cut stick for
home, or he'll be in yer har.”

Rondeau instantly started for home, where he was greeted
by Aunt Dilsey with a torrent of abuse, that good lady
rating him soundly for being gone so long. “Warn't he
'shamed to be foolin' away his time? 'Twan't his time
nuther, 'twas marster's time. Was that ar' fulfillin' of Scripter,
which says `ye must all be eye sarvents,' which means
ye must all keep clus where yer masters can see you?”

How long Aunt Dilsey might have gone on expounding
scripture is not known! for Rondeau interrupted her by saying,
“Don't scold so, old lady. Marster ain't a goin' to care,
for I've got him something this time better than victuals or
drink.”

“What is it?” said Leffie, coming forward. “Have
you got him a letter from Kentuck?”

“I hain't got him nothin' else, Miss Leffie Lacey, if you
please,” said Rondeau, suapping his fingers in her face, and
giving Aunt Dilsey's elbow a slight jostle, just enough to
spill the oil, with which she was filling a lamp.

“Rondeau, I 'clar' for't,” said Aunt Dilsey, setting down
her oil can. “If marster don't crack your head, my old man
Claib shall, if he ever gits up agin. Thar he is in his bunk,
snorin' like he was a steamboat; and marster's asleep up
stars, I reckon. Well, 'tain't no way to live. Things would

go to rack and ruin, if I didn't sweat and work to keep 'em
right eend up, sartin.”

Aunt Dilsey was really a very valuable servant, and had
some reason for thinking herself the main spoke in the wheel
which kept her master's household together. She had lived
in the family ever since Dr. Lacey's earliest recollection, and
as she had nursed him when an infant, he naturally felt a
great affection for her, and intrusted her with the exclusive
management of the culinary department, little negroes and
all. His confidence in her was not misplaced, for from
morning till night she was faithful to her trust, and woe to
any luckless woolly head, who was found wasting “marster's”
time or pilfering Dilseys sweetmeats and pickles.

On the first head Aunt Dilsey was very sensitive, for
being naturally active and stirring herself, “She,” to use her
own words, “couldn't bar to see folks lazin round like thar
was nothin' to do, but to git up and stuff themselves till
they's fit to bust.” She also felt annoyed whenever her
young master indulged himself in a morning nap. “Ought
to be up,” she said, “and airin' hisself.”

On the morning following the party, her patience was
severely taxed in two ways. First, Claib, her husband, had
adhered to his resolution of “sleeping over,” and long after
the clock struck eleven he was snoring profoundly. He had
resisted all Aunt Dilsey's efforts to rouse him. Her scoldings,
sprinklings with both hot and cold water, punching with
the carving fork, had all proved ineffectual, and as a last
resort, she had put the baby on his bed, thinking, “that
would surely fetch him up standin', for 'twasn't in natur to
sleep with the baby wallopin' and mowin' over him.” Her
master, too, troubled her. Why he couldn't get up, she
didn't see. “His breakfast was as cold as a grave stun, and
she didn't keer if 'twas. She had enough to do, 'tendin' to

other affars, without keepin' the niggers and dogs from
pokin' thar noses in it.”

At a late hour Dr. Lacey awoke from his uneasy slumber.
The return of morning brought comparative calmness
to his troubled spirit. Hope whispered that what he had
heard might be a mistake. At least he would wait for further
confirmation. He did not know how near that confirmation
was. Rondeau had been waiting for his master's
summons until his patience was exhausted. So, relying on
the letter to counteract any apparent disrespect, he stalked
up stairs and knocked at Dr. Lacey's door, just as that gentleman
was about ringing for him.

As soon as he entered the room, he called out, “Here,
marster, I've got 'em this time!” at the same time extending
a letter, the superscription of which made Dr. Lacey turn
pale, for he recognized, as he supposed, Fanny's delicate handwriting.

“You may leave me alone, Rondeau,” said he, “and I
will ring for you when I want you.” So Rondeau departed
with the remaining letter in his pocket. He had forgotten
to deliver it, but it was not missed.

Oh, Rondeau, Rondeau! It was very unfortunate that
you forgot that letter, and suffered it to remain in your pocket
unheeded for many days. Its contents would have scattered
the dark, desolating tempest which was fast gathering
o'er your young master's pathway.

As soon as Dr. Lacey was alone, he sat down, anxious,
yet fearing to know the contents of his letter. At last he
resolutely broke the seal, thinking to himself, “It cannot contain
any thing worse than I already know.” One glance at
the beginning and end of the letter, confirmed his fears, and
for a few moments he was unable to read a line; then summoning
all his remaining courage, he calmly read the letter

through, not omitting a single word, but comprehending the
meaning of each sentence. It was as follows:

There was no perceptible change in Dr. Lacey's manner
after reading the above heartless forgery, but the iron had
entered his soul, and for a time he seemed benumbed with
its force. Then came a moment of reflection. His love had
been trampled upon, and thrown back as a thing of naught
by her who had fallen from the high pedestal on which he
had enthroned the idol of his heart's deepest affection.

“I could have pitied, and admired her too,” thought he,
“had she candidly confessed her love for Mr. Wilmot; but to
be so basely deceived by one whom I thought incapable of
deception, is too much.”

Seizing the letter, he again read it through, and this time
he felt his wounded pride somewhat soothed by thinking
that the beautiful Julia admired and sympathized with him.
“But, pshaw!” he exclaimed, “most likely Julia is as hollow-hearted
as her sister, and yet many dark spots on her character
seem to be wiped away by Fanny's confession.” Throwing

the letter aside, he rang the bell, and ordered his breakfast
to be sent up to him.

That afternoon he called on Mabel Mortimer and her
cousin. He found the young ladies in the drawing-room,
and with them a dark, fine-looking, middle-aged gentleman,
whom Mabel introduced as Mr. Middleton. Something in
the looks as well as name of the stranger made Dr. Lacey
involuntarily start with surprise, and he secretly wondered
whether the gentleman was in any way connected with the
Middletons of Kentucky. He was not kept long in doubt,
for Florence, who was very talkative, soon said, “We were
just speaking of you, Dr. Lacey, and Mr. Middleton seems
inclined to claim you as an acquaintance, on the ground of
your having been intimate with his brother's family in Kentucky.”

“Indeed!” said Dr. Lacey; then turning to Mr. Middleton
he said, “Is it possible that you are a brother of Mr. Joshua
Middleton?”

“Yes, sir,” returned the stranger, eyeing Dr. Lacey closely;
“Joshua is my brother, but for more than twenty years,
I have not seem him, or scarcely heard from him.”

“Ah!” answered Dr. Lacey in some astonishment, and
then, as he fancied there was something in Mr. Middleton's
former life which he wished to conceal, he changed the subject,
by asking if Mr. Middleton had been long in the city.

“Only two weeks,” he replied, and he proceeded to speak
of himself, saying, “For many years past I have been in the
Indies. About the time my brother Joshua was married,
my father died. When his will was opened, I thought it a
very unjust one, for it gave to my brother a much larger
share than was given to me. In a fit of anger I declared I
would never touch a penny of my portion, and leaving college,
where I was already in my senior year, I went to New-York,
and getting on board a vessel bound for the East Indies,

I tried by amassing wealth in a distant land, to forget
that I ever had a home this side of the Atlantic. During
the first years of my absence my brother wrote to me frequently,
and most of his letters I answered, for I really bore
him no malice on account of the will. I had not heard a
word from him for a long time, until I reached this city.”

“Are you going to visit Kentucky?” asked Dr. Lacey.

“It is my present intention to do so,” answered Mr.
Middleton; “but first I wish to purchase a summer residence
near the Lake, and after fitting it up tastefully, I shall invite
my nieces to visit me. You are acquainted with them,
I believe.”

Dr. Lacey answered in the affirmative, and Mr. Middleton
continued. “I am told by Miss Woodburn that they
are very beautiful, especially one of them, and quite accomplished.
Is it so?”

Dr. Lacey replied very calmly, “The world, I believe,
unite in calling Miss Julia very beautiful.”

“But what of the other one?” asked Mr. Middleton.
“I am prepossessed in her favor, for she bears the name of
the only sister I ever had.”

Dr. Lacey sighed, for he remembered the time when he
was drawn towards Fanny, because he fancied she resembled
the only sister he ever had. Mr. Middleton observed it, and
immediately said, “Does it make you sigh just to mention
Fanny? What is the matter? Has she jilted you? If she
has, she does not partake of the nature of the Middletons,
for they could never stoop to deceit.”

Here Florence came to Dr. Lacey's relief, by saying, “Why,
Dr. Lacey, Mr. Middleton wants you to repeat what I have
already told him, that Julia is exceedingly beautiful and that
Fanny is as lovely as a Houri, and has the saddest, sweetest
face I ever saw, and the softest, mildest blue eye.”

Dr. Lacey laughingly said, “Thank you, Miss Florence,

Mr. Middleton will please take what you have said as my
opinion concerning his fair nieces.”

Mr. Middleton bowed and then said, “How does my
brother appear? He used to be very rough and abrupt in
his manner.”

Dr. Lacey laughed. He could not help it. His risible
faculties were always excited, when he thought of Joshua
Middleton, and he answered, that although he highly esteemed
Mr. Middleton, he feared his manners were not much improved.

“I dare say not,” said the brother. “When he was at
home, he was always saying things which our mother called
`impolite,' our father `outlandish,' and the blacks, `right
down heathenish.' However, with all his roughness, I believe
there never was a more truly honorable man, or a more
sincere friend.”

After a few moments of general conversation, Mr. Middleton
said, turning to Dr. Lacey, “I feel some anxiety about
this summer residence which I intend purchasing. I am
told that you have fine taste both in selecting a good locality,
and in laying out grounds. If you have leisure, suppose
you accompany me on my exploring excursion, and I will
reward you by an invitation to spend as much time with me
as you like after my nieces arrive.”

Dr. Lacey thanked Mr. Middleton for the compliment
paid to his taste, and he politely expressed his willingness to
assist his friend in the selection of a country-seat. “By the
way,” continued he, “you are stopping at the St. Charles, I
believe. Suppose you exchange your rooms at the hotel for
a home with me, and become my guest until you leave the
city for Kentucky?”

Mr. Middleton accepted Dr. Lacey's invitation willingly,
and the three weeks which he spent at his residence passed
rapidly and pleasantly away. During that time Dr. Lacey

met with a gentleman who owned a very handsome villa
near the lake shore. This he wished to dispose of, and Mr.
Middleton and Dr. Lacey went down to inspect it. They
found it every way desirable, and Mr. Middleton finally purchased
it at an enormous price, and called it the “Indian
Nest.” “Here,” said he, speaking to Dr. Lacey, “here, I
shall at last find that happiness which I have sought for in
vain during forty years. I shall have both my nieces with
me, besides Miss Mortimer and Miss Woodburn. I suppose
I shall have to invite some other young gentleman besides
yourself, for the girls will hardly fancy the old Indian for a
beau.”

Dr. Lacey did not reply. He was thinking how much
pleasure such an arrangement would have given him a few
months ago; but now all was changed, and the thought of
again meeting Fanny, afforded him more pain than pleasure.

Mr. Middleton noticed his silence, and as he was slightly
tinctured with the abruptness which characterized his brother,
he said, “Why, young man, what is the matter? Have
you been disappointed, or what makes you manifest so much
indifference to spending the summer, or a part of it, with
four agreeable girls?”

Dr. Lacey saw the necessity of rousing himself from his
melancholy mood, and assuming a gayety he did not feel, he
said, “I feel very much flattered, Mr. Middleton, with the
honor you confer upon me, but I have, for some time past,
been subject to low spirits; so you must not mind it, if I am
not always gay. Come, let us go into the garden and see
what improvements are needed there.”

So saying they turned together into the large terraced
garden. While they were engaged in walking over the
handsome grounds which surrounded “The Indian Nest,”
Rondeau, who had accompanied his master, was differently
occupied. Strolling down to the lake shore, he amused himself

for a time by watching the waves as they dashed against
the pebbly beach, and by fancying that each of them reflected
the image of Leffie's bright round face. Then buttoning
up his coat he would strut back and forth, admiring
his shadow, and thinking how much more the coat became
him than it did his young master. It had been given to
him by Dr. Lacey, with the order “not to wear it out in two
days;” so Rondeau had not worn it before since the morning
when he gave his master one letter and forgot the other.
He had brought it with him to the lake, and was trying the
effect of his elegant appearance.

Chancing to thrust his hand in his pocket, he felt the
long-forgotten letter and drew it forth, then looking at it
with wide open eyes and mouth, gave vent to his surprise as
follows: “Who'd a b'leved it! Here's this letter been in
my pocket two weeks! I deserve to be cracked over the
head, and any body but marster would do it. I'll run and
give it to him now,—but no, I won't,” said he, suddenly
slackening his pace, “I've heard him say he could always
trust me, and if I own up this time, he'll lose his—what's
the word? conference?—yes, conference in me. I don't believe
this letter's of any account, for it's a great big letter,
just like a man's handwrite. Any way, I'll wait till I get
home and consult Leffie.”

The letter was accordingly placed in his pocket, and in a
few moments he rejoined his master and Mr. Middleton.
The next day they returned home. Rondeau's first act was
to draw Leffie aside, and after winning from her various
strong promises of secrecy, he imparted to her the astounding
fact that, “He had found one of marster's letters in his
trouses,—no, his coat pocket. It had been there two
weeks, and he didn't know what in cain to do with it. If he
gave it to marster now, 'twould make him lose faith in him,
and so forth.”

Leffie heard him through, and then fully agreed with him
that 'twas best not to tell marster at this late hour; “But,”
said she, “I'd put it out of the way, so 'twouldn't be poppin'
out in sight some time.”

“Shall I burn it?” asked Rondeau.

“Oh, no,” said Leffie; “keep it so marster can have it,
if he ever hears of it. There's your cigar box, take it and
bury the letter in it.”

“Whew—ew,” said Rondeau with a prolonged whistle,
“it takes you women to calculate any thing cute!”

The cigar box was brought out, and in a few moments,
the poor letter was lying quietly under a foot and a half of
earth.

“There,” said Leffie, as Rondeau laid over the spot a
piece of fresh green turf, “nobody'll ever have any idee
whose grave this is.”

Rondeau rolled up his eyes, and assuming a most doleful
expression, said, “Couldn't you manage to bust a tear or two,
just to make it seem more like a real buryin'?”

Leffie answered him by a sound box on his ear, at the
same time threatening to expose his wickedness at the next
class meeting. Aunt Dilsey's voice was now heard calling
out, “Leffie, Leffie, is you stun deaf and blind now that
fetched Rondeau's done got home? Come here this
minute!”

Rondeau and Leffie returned to the house, leaving buried
a letter, the reading of which would have changed the whole
tenor of their master's feelings.

For a knowledge of its contents, as well as of its author,
we must go back for a time to Frankfort whence it came,
premising that Mr. Middleton will follow us in a few days.