A Daughter of the Union Part 17

"So much gained," murmured the lady aside to her husband. To Jeanne she only said quietly:

"Thank you, dear. You are an amiable little thing, and you shall have my favorite darky for your maid while you are here. I will call s...o...b..ll and she will help you to dress for dinner."

"s...o...b..ll," echoed Jeanne.

CHAPTER XIII

UNDER EVERY FLOWER THERE LURKS A SERPENT

"Yes; s...o...b..ll," repeated Madame. "A quaint name, is it not? She is so black that I fancy that was the reason it was given her. She bore it when your uncle bought her. She is very bright, and a master hand at waiting upon one."

Jeanne made no further remark but eagerly scanned the face of the darky as she entered. She was indeed very black, and her s.h.i.+ning ivories were always visible in a smile. Good nature was written all over her countenance, but Jeanne could see no resemblance to Tenny.

"She may not be the one after all," she mused.

"s...o...b..ll," said Madame. "Miss Jeanne will be your young lady now. Your duty will be to attend to her and to look after her clothes while she is here."

"Yes'm;" s...o...b..ll dropped a curtsy. "Does yer want me ter do anything now, little missy?"

"Yes; help her to dress for dinner," replied Madame Vance speaking for Jeanne. "We dine at eight, my dear."

Jeanne followed the black to the room which had been given her, and s...o...b..ll proceeded to brush her hair.

"s...o...b..ll," said the girl suddenly, "was your mother named Tennessee? And did they call her Tenny for short?"

"Bress yer soul, honey, yes," cried s...o...b..ll letting the brush fall in her astonishment. "How k.u.m yer ter know dat?"

"She was on the boat with me when I came from Memphis," replied Jeanne.

"She told me all about losing you and how much she thought of you, but she thought that Colonel Peyton bought you."

"Yes'm, he did. But de Kuhnel went to de wah an' he say he hab too many darkies, so he sell off all but de ones he hab de longes', an' Ma.s.sa Vance bought me. What my ole mammy say?"

"She loves you very much, and she misses you greatly, s...o...b..ll. I wish I could buy you and set you free. Then you could go North to live with her."

"Wish yer could. I'd laik dat. An' I'd laik de bes' in de wohld ter see my ole mammy ergain. How'd she look, missy?"

Jeanne told the girl all that she could recall about Tenny. How she looked and what she had said. s...o...b..ll's eyes glistened as she talked.

"Yer got a good heart, little missy," she said as Jeanne paused for breath. "You is de bestest lill' lady dat I eber seed. s...o...b..ll'll lub ter wait on yer."

And Jeanne soon found that it was really a labor of love to the girl, and they grew to be fast friends despite the difference in color and condition. In fact she soon found that she felt more at home with the colored girl than she did with her aunt in spite of the caresses which the latter lavished upon her.

The days pa.s.sed into weeks, and the weeks into months until two had rolled by and Jeanne was still in New Orleans. She had grown pale and thin and worn. She had no illness but suffered the bad effects of the wasting climate. In all the time she had been there no word had come to her from her parents, and a great longing for home possessed her.

"Why does not my father write for me?" she murmured one morning as she sat listlessly before the window. "What can have happened? Something is wrong I know, or he would have sent for me."

"Why so triste, my love?" asked her aunt entering the room.

"Cherie," and Jeanne returned the caress that Madame bestowed upon her.

"I am wis.h.i.+ng for my mother and home. I wonder why I have not heard from my father."

"It is strange," admitted the lady. "And yet, child, when one considers the state of the country and how the Yankees seize mails and telegrams, and exercise such a rigorous espionage over them one cannot wonder after all. I have no doubt that he has written, but that his letters are being detained for some reason by 'Beast' Butler."

Jeanne made no reply. She had ceased for some time saying anything when her aunt launched forth in a tirade against the Yankees. She was as staunch a patriot as ever, but, without words, it had been borne in upon her mind that her sentiments were unwelcome to her uncle and aunt, and that it would be better for her not to give utterance to them.

"Where is s...o...b..ll?" asked Madame Vance presently. "I wish to take you for a drive, and you are not dressed. That darky gets more s.h.i.+ftless every day. Where is she?"

"Hyar I is, missus." s...o...b..ll started up from behind a huge brocaded chair so quickly that she overturned a low table upon which stood a ewer that had contained orangeade. A crash followed, and the culprit stood looking at the fragments of the pitcher with consternation written over her face.

"Come here," and Madame's tone was so stern that Jeanne looked at her startled. "Forty lashes you shall have for this."

"Please'm, missus, lemme off dis time. Clar ter goodness I didn't go ter do it."

"Please, please," said Jeanne tearfully. She had heard the sound of whippings once or twice, but her aunt had always taken her away from the sound immediately, and her soul sickened at the thought of them. "I could not bear to have s...o...b..ll whipped, Cherie."

"She must be punished," said the lady harshly. "Such carelessness cannot be tolerated for a moment."

"But isn't there some other way?" cried Jeanne. "Do, do, dear Cherie, use some other way of punishment."

"Jeanne, I beg you to say no more. Am I not capable of administering the affairs of my own household? I want no Yankee notions down here.

I understand what she needs."

Jeanne did not dare to reply. She had never before seen her aunt angry although she knew that the blacks were very much afraid of her. s...o...b..ll was taken down into the yard, and soon Jeanne heard the most fearful screams as if a human being was suffering the utmost that a mortal could endure of agony.

She could not bear the cries. She ran down the stairs and out into the yard where she beheld the girl stretched upon the ground on her face, her feet tied to a stake, her hands held by a black man, her back uncovered from her head to her heels. Her aunt was standing by directing a burly negro in his task of applying the lash.

The girl's back was covered with blood. Every stroke of the instrument of torture tore up the flesh in long dark ridges. With a cry of horror Jeanne caught the man's arm as it was about to descend for another stroke.

"Stop," she cried. "For the love of mercy, stop!"

"Go into the house, girl," commanded Madame Vance in terrible tones. "Who are you that you should interfere with my bidding? Have I not the right to do with my own slave as I wish? I want none of your abolitionism here."

"But she has been whipped enough," cried Jeanne. "Surely it is enough. I cannot bear it."

She burst into tears. For a moment Madame's face was convulsed with fury, and then a wonderful change came over it. She was once again the smiling, affectionate lady that had greeted the girl on her arrival.

"There!" she said going to Jeanne and putting her arms about her. "You shall have your way. You see that 'Cherie' can refuse you nothing. Put up your strap, Jeff. I will let the girl off this time because Miss Jeanne wishes it. But see that you are more careful next time, s...o...b..ll. You might not get off so easily."

"Yes, missus," responded the sobbing creature as she was helped upon her feet.

"Now come, Jeanne, and we will go for our drive. You have no idea how troublesome these blacks are, my dear. One has to keep an iron hand upon them to hold them in subjection. But of course you are not used to them."

"No," said Jeanne shrinking a little from her caresses. "We don't have slavery at the North. I never felt so thankful of it before. Poor things!

Poor things!"