Mr. Baron gradually rallied under his increased responsibilities and
resolved to be his own overseer. Although an exacting master, the
negroes knew he was not a severe one if they did their work fairly
well. The spook scare had given Uncle Lusthah renewed influence and
he used it in behalf of peace and order. "Our fren Miss Lou, sick,"
he urged. "We mek her trouble en we mek oursefs trouble ef we doan
go on peac'ble. What kin we do eny way at dis yer time? De Norf
fightin' fer us en hit all 'pen' on de Norf. We mus' kep a gwine ez
we is till de times en seasons ob de Lawd is 'vealed."
And so for a period, quiet again settled down on the old plantation.
Mrs. Whately and Aun' Jinkey nursed Miss Lou into a slow, languid
convalescence, till at last she was able to sit in an easy-chair on
the piazza. This she would do by the hour, with a sad, apathetic
look on her thin face. She was greatly changed, her old rounded
outlines had shrunken and she looked frail enough for the winds to
blow away. The old, fearless, spirited look in her blue eyes had
departed utterly, leaving only an expression of settled sadness,
varied by an anxious, expectant gaze, suggesting a lingering hope
that some one might come or something happen to break the dreadful
silence which began, she felt, when Scoville fell from his horse in
the darkening forest.
Pages:
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559