The Fatal Cord Part 15

"Thar ain't nothin' in them woods, 'ceptin' squrrl. Who's been squrrl shootin' this time o' day?"

"Some boys, perhaps?"

"Boys! Hey! what's that dog a draggin' out from 'mong the peach trees?

Snake, by the Eturnal!--a rattler too! The hound ain't killed that varmint himself?"

The old hunter, yielding to curiosity, or some undeclared impulse, stepped down from the porch, and out to where the hound had come to a stop, and was standing by the body of the snake.

Driving the dog aside, he stooped over the dead reptile to examine it.

"Shot through the skull!" he muttered to himself; "an' wi' a rifle, o'

sixty to the pound. That ere's been a hunter's gun. Who ked it be?

It's been done this side of the crik, too; seems as the dog hain't wetted a hair in fetchin' o't."

Turning along the trail of the snake--which, to his experienced eye, was discernible in the gra.s.s--he followed it, till he came to the spot where the snake had been killed.

"Shot hyar for sartin. Yes; thar's the score o' the bullet arter it had pa.s.sed through the varmint's brainpan; an' thar's the shoe track o' him as fired the shot. No boy that; but a full growed man! Who the durnation hez been trespa.s.sin' 'mong my peach trees?"

He bent down over the track, and carefully scrutinised them. Then rising erect, he followed them to the bank of the creek, where he saw the same footprints, more conspicuously outlined in the mud.

"Stranger for sartin!" muttered he; "no sich futmark as that 'beout these settlements--not as I know on. Who the durnation kin it a-been?"

It was strange he should take so much trouble about a circ.u.mstance so slight; or show such anxiety to discover who had been the intruder. He was evidently uneasy about something of more importance to him than the trespa.s.s among his peach trees.

"That gurl must a heerd the shot plainer than she's been tellin' me o', an' seed more'n she's confessed to. Thar's somethin' on her mind, I hain't been able to make out any how. She shall be put thro' a chapter o' kattykism."

"Lena, gurl!" he continued, going back towards the porch, still occupied by his daughter; "d'ye mean to say ye seed n.o.body beout hyar to-day?"

"I see some one now," said she; by the rarest bit of good luck enabled to evade giving an answer to the question.

"See some un now! Whar?"

"There, a friend of yours, coming along the lane."

"Alf Brandon!" exclaimed the old hunter, hurrying forth to receive the individual then announced; and who, astride a sleek horse, was seen riding leisurely in the direction of the house.

For Lena Rook it was an opportune arrival; and, for a time at least, she was spared that threatened "chapter o' kattykism."

STORY ONE, CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

AN ANGRY ADMIRER.

For the first time in her life, Lena Rook saw Alfred Brandon approach her father's house without a feeling of pain or repulsion.

Though for years he had been the most solicitous of her suitors, she felt for him something more than contempt.

Despite his position in society--far superior to her own--despite his fine clothes and speeches, she saw through the character of the man, and believed him to be both a pretender and poltroon.

She knew that he was cruel--a tyrant to all who had the misfortune to be under him, and a hard task-master to the black-skinned slaves that lived upon his father's plantation.

Though dissipated, he was not generous; and, with all the plenty he possessed, he was accounted among his a.s.sociates the closest of screws.

He spent money, and enough of it, but only upon himself, and in the indulgence of his own sensual desires.

He had obtained the reputation of being one of the meanest fellows in the neighbourhood to which he belonged; and Lena Rook knew it.

She had never liked him as a boy; and her aversion was increased by her knowledge that, as a boy, he had been the bitter enemy of Pierre Robideau.

She did not think how much of this hostility was due to herself; for, from an early period, the son of the planter had been bitterly jealous of her playmate and companion.

But she remembered the scene in the glade; she believed that Alf Brandon had been the chief instigator; and she had, all along, suspected that Pierre's absence was in some way due to what had that day transpired.

She was very pleased to see Brandon now, only because he had rescued her from a position that promised to become embarra.s.sing. What answer could she have made to that question her father had asked?

The opportune arrival had relieved her from an agony of apprehension.

The planter--now that his father was dead, no longer the planter's son-- seemed a little surprised at the pleased look with which she received him. She was not accustomed to give him such gracious acceptance, and little dreamt he of its cause.

"No doubt," reasoned he, with a feeling of self-gratulation, "she's heard I'm now my own master, and won't much object to my becoming her's.

A planter in his own right is a very different individual from a planter expectant; and Miss Lena Rook will have the sense to see it. I don't think there will be much difficulty about this thing. She's been only pretending with me in the past; now that she sees all's ready, I guess she'll not stand s.h.i.+lly-shallying any longer. So here goes for the proposals."

This string of reflections were made after Alfred Brandon had entered the gate, and was making his way towards the porch, on which the young lady was still standing. They were finished as he set foot on the step.

There was no one to interfere with the conversation that came after.

Jerry Rook, suspecting the purport of the planter's visit, had stayed behind to hitch up his horse, and afterwards found excuse to stray off to the back of the house, leaving the two alone.

"I suppose you have heard of my affliction, Miss Rook?" said Brandon, after salutations had been exchanged.

"My father has been just telling me of it."

"Ah! yes; my old dad's dead and gone; buried him day before yesterday.

Can't be helped, you know. It's the way of us all. We've all got to die."

To this lugubrious declaration Lena Rook yielded ready a.s.sent.

There was a pause in the conversation. Notwithstanding his plent.i.tude of power, tending to inspire him with sufficient a.s.surance, the suitor felt ill at ease. It was not to be wondered at, considering the errand on which he had come.

Moreover, the pleasant look had forsaken Lena's face, and he had begun to doubt of success.

She knew what he had come for, and was seriously reflecting upon the answer she should give him.

She, of course, intended it to be negative; but she remembered her father's words, and was thinking in what way she might reject the disagreeable suitor, without stirring up his spite. She so well understood his nature as to know he would be contemptible enough to use it.

It was no thought of herself that dictated the affability with which she was entertaining him; though she could scarce conceal her disgust for the man before her, talking in such strains of a father so recently deceased.

She, too, had a father, who was not what he ought to be; and she knew it. But still he was her father.

After remaining for some time silent--not knowing what to say--Brandon at length summoned sufficient courage to stammer out his proposal. It was done with some fear and trembling.