CHAPTER XIII.
SAD FOREBODINGS.
When Love and Dainty were parting in the hall that night, he detained
her a few moments, saying:
"I must start early in the morning for Lewisburg, our county seat. It is
twenty miles distant, and I shall not return until night. Do you think
you can bear the day without me?" playfully.
"Must you really go?" she sighed.
"Yes; I have some business that must not be postponed. I would take you
with me, darling, but it is a long drive over rough mountain roads, and
would fatigue you too much. But I hate to leave you for a whole day,
Dainty, and I shall be thinking of you all day," whispered the fond
lover, longing to take her in his arms and bid her an ardent farewell,
but deterred because his step-mother was lingering officiously close by.
They parted with a swift-stolen kiss when her head was turned, and
Dainty went reluctantly enough to her room, dreading the almost nightly
repeated experience with the grim ghost of Ellsworth.
She had grown to dread with a sickening terror the nights that were
stealing some of the rose-bloom from her cheeks and the brightness from
her violet eyes; but in her pride lest Love should deem her a coward,
she would not yield to the longing to ask him to let her go home to her
mother till the wedding day.
"It would be too great a triumph for my cruel rivals to have me go home
now, and they would try to turn my lover's heart against me. Besides,
now that he has written mamma to come, she will soon be with me, and
then I shall not fear anything," she thought, as she entered the room
reluctantly, hating the night and the company of the coarse Sheila
Kelly, but too unwilling to spend the night alone to dismiss her from
the room.
But to her surprise she was confronted by an aged negro woman with a
kindly black face that beamed benevolence on the startled girl.
"Hi, honey, yo' look 'sprised ter see me in yo' room. Aine Massa Love
tole you dat I gwine tek de place o' dat uppish Irish gal?" she
exclaimed, gently.
Dainty smiled and shook her head. The old woman continued:
"Den I must interduce myse'f to yo', honey. My name is Virginny, but yo'
kin call me Mammy, kase I been de black mammy o' two ginerations o'
Ellsworfs--from Massa Love's pappy down to Massa Love heself--an' maybe
I gwine lib to nuss his chillen, too. Hi, what yo' blushin' at? Won't
yo' be proud when yo' an' Massa Love git married an' settle down, wif de
little ones springing up around yo' like flowers, some wif sassy black
eyes like deir pappy, an' some wif blue-vi'let eyes like deir mammy. Oh,
I want to lib ter see dat day, an' ter rock dem in my ole arms, an'
snuggle deir shiny heads up agin my breast, an' sing to dem like I done
sing to deir pappy an' deir grandpappy," folding her arms on her breast
and crooning musically:
"Byo, baby boy, bye--
Byo, li'l boy!
Oh, run ter 'is mammy,
En she tek 'im 'er arms--
Mammy's li'l baby boy!
"Who all de time er frettin' in de middle er de day?
Mammy's li'l boy, mammy's li'l baby boy!
Who all de time er gittin' so sleepy he can't play?
Mammy's li'l boy, mammy's li'l baby boy!
"Byo, baby boy, bye--
Byo, li'l boy!
Oh, run ter 'is mammy,
En climb up en 'er lap--
Mammy's li'l baby boy!
"Who all de time stumpin' 'is toe ergin a rock?
Mammy's li'l boy, mammy's li'l baby boy!
Who all de time er rippin' big hole in 'is frock?
Mammy's li'l boy, mammy's li'l baby boy!
"Byo, baby boy, bye--
Byo, li'l boy!
En 'e run ter 'is mammy
Fer ter git 'im out er trouble--
Mammy's li'l baby boy!"
Dainty had sunk down in the easy-chair at the open window, and the
tender tears flashed into her eyes at the sweet domestic picture painted
by the loving old black mammy.
How beautiful it had sounded, the picture of the future to her fond
young heart; but would it ever come true, or would the malice of her
enemies yet come between her and happiness? Sad foreboding filled her
mind as she recalled Olive's black looks and cruel words while she
played the gypsy fortune-teller.
"She was trying to frighten me to death, and I believe she would have
succeeded, had not Love so fortunately discovered her identity," she
mused, while mammy crooned on monotonously with her nursery song.
Suddenly coming to herself, she cried:
"Dar now, I forgot mys'f, as I often do, and t'ought I was back in de
good ole times, nussin' de babies dat's all growed up now, an' some on
'em dead, too! But as I was a-sayin', Miss Dainty, deares', Massa Love
he kem down ter my darter's cabin dis arternoon, an' say, 'Well, well,
mammy, settin' in de sun an' bakin' yo' ole haid es usual! How it brings
up de chilehood days wheneber I see yo'! Here's a dollar fer yer, an'
some baccy fer yer pipe, an' mammy, I want yer ter do er favor fer yer
li'l boy.'
"When Massa Love speak dat coaxin' way he knows I gwine let him tromp on
ole black mammy ef he want ter; an' I nods, an' he goes on:
"'Mammy, I come to tole yer I gwine git married on my birfday--de first
o' August, yo' know. My sweetheart is a-visitin' at Ellsworf, an' she's
de prettiest girl in de world! Her cheeks is like roses, an' her hair is
bright like sunshine, an' her eyes blue as de dark vi'lets down in de
wood. An' she's good as she's pretty; but dem mean servants at Ellsworf
dey done tole her ghost stories, an' she's dat nervous she can't sleep
at night for vain 'maginings of hearing ole men coughin' an' seein' ole
monks paradin' an' layin' cole hands on her face. She must not sleep
alone, fer she's never been parted from her mammy before; but she hates
dat coarse Sheila Kelly; so, mammy, you must go up ter de house an'
watch in my dear girl's room ebery night till her own mammy comes from
Richmun', an' yo' must sleep all day an' lie awake all night ter soothe
my nervous darlin' ef she gits frightened, an' mammy, you shall hab a
silber dollar ever' mornin' fer takin' keer ob my lub.' So you see why
I come, honey. Kase he want me, not fer de silber dollar; kase I don'
mean ter tek hit at all, only I didn't tell him so, not ter git inter an
argyment wif him. So now, honey, lemme he'p yer to baid, an' I'se
warrant de ha'nts sha'n't 'sturb you dis night."
"Then you don't believe the stories of the old monk, mammy?" Dainty
said, timidly, as she laid her golden head down on the lace pillow.
"Monks, indeed! No, chile, no; deir aine no monks at Ellsworf, an' never
was, 'cept when de circus kem ter de kentry, las' summer was a year
agone. Dey was two cute li'l monks den, wif white faces like li'l ole
men, an' dey was mighty cur'us li'l rascals, an' dat sassy wif deir red
suits and yaller caps; but I aine never heerd o' deir gitten loose from
de circus, an' I don' b'leeve dey ever did, an' you can 'pend on what I
say, fer I been at Ellsworf ever sence I was born, an' dat's a hunnerd
years more or less. Now shet yo' eyes, ma honey. I gwine sing yo' to
sleep."
And while Dainty dozed away, thinking gratefully of the fond care of her
noble lover, the old woman crooned over her in monotonous cadences the
lulling nursery song:
"Byo, baby girl, bye--
Byo, li'l girl!
Oh, run ter 'er mammy,
Fer ter git 'er out o' trouble--
Mammy's li'l baby girl!"
Softly the white lids drooped over the tired eyes, and Dainty slept
peacefully as a little child.
Then the old black mammy hushed her lullaby song and relapsed into
silence, gazing in admiring pride at the lovely sleeping face under its
billows of golden hair, perhaps wondering why God made people so
different--some as fair and beautiful as angels, others black and homely
like herself.
But no discontent or envy marred her humble thoughts. Instead, she
murmured a low prayer of blessing for the girl who had prayed for
herself, kneeling by the bed, but a little while ago; then put out the
light and moved over to the window to keep the vigil her "Massa Love"
had commanded over his precious darling.
And as she was accustomed to watching by sickbeds, and had been sleeping
all afternoon, she managed to keep awake all night, and Dainty slept
dreamlessly till dawn. Apparently the ghost was exorcised.