The Crossing | Page 9

against Alec Cameron."
The gentleman looked at my father with something like terror in his eyes.
"You'll never forgive Cameron," he said.
"I'll no forgive anybody who does me a wrong," said my father.
"And where have you been all these years, Alec?" he asked presently. "Since you went off with--"
"I've been in the mountains, leading a pure life," said my father. "And we'll speak of nothing, if you please, that's gone by."
"And what will you have me do?" said the gentleman, helplessly.
"Little enough," said my father. "Keep the lad till I come again. He's quiet. He'll no trouble you greatly. Davy, this is Mr. Temple. You're to stay with him till I come again."
"Come here, lad," said the gentleman, and he peered into my face. "You'll not resemble your mother."
"He'll resemble no one," said my father, shortly.
"Good-by, Davy. Keep this till I come again." And he gave me the parcel made of my mother's gown. Then he lifted me in his strong arms and kissed me, and strode out of the house. We listened in silence as he went down the steps, and until his footsteps died away on the path. Then the gentleman rose and pulled a cord hastily. The negro came in.
"Put the lad to bed, Breed," said he.
"Whah, suh?"
"Oh, anywhere," said the master. He turned to me.
"I'll be better able to talk to you in the morning, David," said he.
I followed the old servant up the great stairs, gulping down a sob that would rise, and clutching my mother's gown tight under my arm. Had my father left me alone in our cabin for a fortnight, I should not have minded. But here, in this strange house, amid such strange surroundings, I was heartbroken. The old negro was very kind. He led me into a little bedroom, and placing the candle on a polished dresser, he regarded me with sympathy.
"So you're Miss Lizbeth's boy," said he. "An' she dade. An' Marse Alec rough an' hard es though he been bo'n in de woods. Honey, ol' Breed'll tek care ob you. I'll git you one o' dem night rails Marse Nick has, and some ob his'n close in de mawnin'."
These things I remember, and likewise sobbing myself to sleep in the four-poster. Often since I have wished that I had questioned Breed of many things on which I had no curiosity then, for he was my chief companion in the weeks that followed. He awoke me bright and early the next day.
"Heah's some close o' Marse Nick's you kin wear, honey," he said.
"Who is Master Nick?" I asked.
Breed slapped his thigh.
"Marse Nick Temple, Marsa's son. He's 'bout you size, but he ain' no mo' laik you den a Jack rabbit's laik an' owl. Dey ain' none laik Marse Nick fo' gittin' into trouble-and gittin' out agin."
"Where is he now?" I asked.
"He at Temple Bow, on de Ashley Ribber. Dat's de Marsa's barony."
"His what?"
"De place whah he lib at, in de country."
"And why isn't the master there?"
I remember that Breed gave a wink, and led me out of the window onto a gallery above the one where we had found the master the night before. He pointed across the dense foliage of the garden to a strip of water gleaming in the morning sun beyond.
"See dat boat?" said the negro. "Sometime de Marse he tek ar ride in dat boat at night. Sometime gentlemen comes heah in a pow'ful hurry to git away, out'n de harbor whah de English is at."
By that time I was dressed, and marvellously uncomfortable in Master Nick's clothes. But as I was going out of the door, Breed hailed me.
"Marse Dave,"--it was the first time I had been called that,--"Marse Dave, you ain't gwineter tell?"
"Tell what?" I asked.
"Bout'n de boat, and Marsa agwine away nights."
"No," said I, indignantly.
"I knowed you wahn't," said Breed. "You don' look as if you'd tell anything."
We found the master pacing the lower gallery. At first he barely glanced at me, and nodded. After a while he stopped, and began to put to me many questions about my life: when and how I had lived. And to some of my answers he exclaimed, "Good God!" That was all. He was a handsome man, with hands like a woman's, well set off by the lace at his sleeves. He had fine-cut features, and the white linen he wore was most becoming.
"David," said he, at length, and I noted that he lowered his voice, "David, you seem a discreet lad. Pay attention to what I tell you. And mark! if you disobey me, you will be well whipped. You have this house and garden to play in, but you are by no means to go out at the front of the house. And whatever you may see or hear, you are to tell no one.