Chapter Fifty Two. Cold Courtesy
I received my mother’s embrace with filial warmth; my sister’s in silence – almost with coldness. My mother noticed this, and wondered. Gallagher also shewed reserve in his greeting of Virginia; and neither did this pass unobserved.
Of the four, my sister was the least embarrassed; she was not embarrassed at all. On the contrary, her lips moved freely, and her eyes sparkled with a cheerful expression, as if really joyed by our arrival.
“You have been on horseback, sister?” I said, in a tone that affected indifference as to the reply.
“Say, rather, pony-back. My little Foxey scarcely deserves the proud title of horse. Yes, I have been out for an airing.”
“Alone?”
“Quite alone —solus bolus, as the black people have it.”
“Is it prudent, sister?”
“Why not? I often do it. What have I to fear? The wolves and panthers are hunted out, and White Fox is too swift either for a bear or an alligator.”
“There are creatures to be encountered in the woods more dangerous than wild beasts.”
I watched her countenance as I made the remark, but I saw not the slightest change.
“What creatures, George?” she asked in a drawling tone, imitating that in which I had spoken.
“Redskins – Indians,” I answered abruptly.
“Nonsense, brother; there are no Indians in this neighbourhood – at least,” added she with marked hesitation, “none that we need fear. Did I not write to tell you so? You are fresh from the hostile ground, where I suppose there is an Indian in every bush; but remember, Geordy, you have travelled a long way, and unless you have brought the savages with you, you will find none here. So, gentlemen, you may go to sleep to-night without fear of being awakened by the Yo-ho-ehee.”
“Is that so certain, Miss Randolph?” inquired Gallagher, now joining in the conversation, and no longer “broguing” it. “Your brother and I have reason to believe that some, who have already raised the war-cry, are not so far off from the settlements of the Suwanee.”
“Miss Randolph! Ha, ha, ha! Why Mister Gallagher, where did you learn that respectful appellative? It is so distant you must have fetched it a long way. It used to be Virginia, and Virgine, and Virginny, and simple ’Gin – for which last I could have spitted you, Mister Gallagher, and would, had you not given up calling me so. What’s the matter? It is just three months since we – that is, you and I, Mister Gallagher – met last; and scarcely two since Geordy and I parted; and now you are both here – one talking as solemnly as Solon, the other as soberly as Socrates! George, I presume, after another spell of absence, will be styling me Miss Randolph – I suppose that’s the fashion at the fort. Come, fellows,” she added, striking the balustrade with her whip, “your minds and your mouths, and give me the reason of this wonderful ‘transmogrification,’ for by my word, you shall not eat till you do!”
The relation in which Gallagher stood to my sister requires a little explanation. He was not new either to her or my mother. During their sojourn in the north, he had met them both; but the former often. As my almost constant companion, he had ample opportunity of becoming acquainted with Virginia; and he had, in reality, grown well acquainted with her. They met on the most familiar terms – even to using the diminutives of each other’s names; and I could understand why my sister regarded “Miss Randolph” as a rather distant mode of address; but I understood, also, why he had thus addressed her.
There was a period when I believed my friend in love with Virginia; that was shortly after their introduction to each other. But as time wore on, I ceased to have this belief. Their behaviour was not that of lovers – at least, according to my notion. They were too friendly to be in love. They used to romp together, and read comic books, and laugh, and chatter by the hour about trivial things, and call each other jack-names, and the like. In fact, it was a rare thing to hear them either talk or act soberly when in each other’s company. All this was so different from my ideas of how two lovers would act – so different from the way in which I should have acted – that I gave up the fancy I had held, and afterwards regarded them as two beings whose characters had a certain correspondence, and whose hearts were in unison for friendship, but not for love.
One other circumstance confirmed me in this belief: I observed that my sister, during Gallagher’s absence, had little relish for gaiety, which had been rather a characteristic of her girlish days; but the moment the latter would make his appearance, a sadden change would come over her, and she would enter with abandon into all the idle bagatelle of the hour.
Love, thought I, does not so exhibit itself. If there was one in whom she felt a heart-interest, it was not he who was present. No – Gallagher was not the man; and the play that passed between them was but the fond familiarity of two persons who esteemed each other, without a spark of love being mixed up in the affection.
The dark suspicion that now rested upon his mind, as upon my own, had evidently saddened him – not from any feeling of jealousy, but out of pure friendly sympathy for me – perhaps, too, for her. His bearing towards her, though within the rules of the most perfect politeness, was changed – much changed; no wonder she took notice of it – no wonder she called for an explanation.
“Quick!” cried she, cutting the vine-leaves with her whip. “Is it a travesty, or are you in earnest? Unbosom yourselves both, or I keep my vow – you shall have no dinner. I shall myself go to the kitchen, and countermand it.”
Despite the gloomy thoughts passing within, her manner and the odd menace compelled Gallagher to break into laughter – though his laugh was far short of the hearty cachinnation she had been accustomed to hear from him.
I was myself forced to smile; and, seeing the necessity of smothering my emotions, I stammered forth what might pass for an explanation. It was not the time for the true one.
“Verily, sister,” said I, “we are too tired for mirth, and too hungry as well. Consider how far we have ridden, and under a broiling sun! Neither of us has tasted a morsel since leaving the fort, and our breakfast there was none of the most sumptuous – corncakes and weak coffee, with pickled pork. How I long for some of Aunt Sheba’s Virginia biscuits and ‘chicken fixings.’ Pray, let us have our dinner, and then you shall see a change in us! We shall both be as merry as sand-boys after it.”
Satisfied with this explanation, or affecting to be so – for her response was a promise to let us have our dinner – accompanied by a cheerful laugh – my sister retired to make the necessary change in her costume, while my friend and I were shown to our separate apartments.
At dinner, and afterwards, I did my utmost to counterfeit ease – to appear happy and cheerful. I noticed that Gallagher was enacting a similar métier.
Perhaps this seeming may have deceived my mother, but not Virginia. Ere many hours had passed, I observed signs of suspicion – directed equally against Gallagher as myself. She suspected that all was not right, and began to show pique – almost spitefulness – in her conversation with us both.