Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 35, Number 74, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 May 1903 — Sunny Bank Farm [ARTICLE]

Sunny Bank Farm

BY FLOYD LIVINGSTON

CHAPTER XXII. It was early morning. The windows •f my room were open, admitting -the fresh, cool air, which had been purified ky one of those terrific thunder atorms •o common in a southern clime. For many weeks I had lain there in e state of nnconsciousness, save at Intervals when I had a dreamy realisation of what was transpiring around me. The physician who was called in Dr. Clayton’s stead had more than once hinted of continued Insanity, citing similar cases which had come under his observation; but in spite of hie opinion, I, that bright August taorning. awoke from a refreshing sleep, with perfectly restored faculties. At first I thought I was alone, for there was a deep silence in the room, and from the hall below I distinctly heard the ticking •f the clock, reminding me of the time, gears ago, when once before I had hovered between life and death. Now, as then, I experienced the delicious feeling •f returning health, but I missed the familiar faces of my friends, and as I' thought how far I was from home and ell who loved me, 1 said aloud, “I am alone, alone.” “Not alone. Rosa, for I am with you,” answered a deep voice near: and the next moment the dark form of Richard Dsga--1 eld bent over me. ■« Eagerly scanning my face, he said, “Do gou know me?” “Yes,” I nuswered. “Mr. Delafield.” Then as a dim remembrance of thp past eame over me. I lifted my head and looked round the room for one who I knew had not long since been there. Divining roy thought, he said very gently, as if the announcement would of ( course give me pain. “He is not hero, Rosa. He was obliged to go home; but 1 dare say he will soon return; meantime I will take care of you. Don't feel so hadly,” he continued, as tears of genuine Joy at l>r. Clayton's absence gathered to my eyes. I could not tell him the truth; and wheu I spoke it was to ask him concerning my illness. After telling me all that hp thought proper, he took the letter from, his pocket, and said, “Dr. Clayton left this for yon. Have you strength to read it now';" “Yes. yes,” I replied, eagerly, at the lime time stretching out my hand to take it. • There was a blur upon my eyes as I read, and I pitied Dr. Clayton, who had thus laid bare to me his wretchedness' hut mingled with this wav a feeling of relief to know that I'was free. He told mo whet lie had written to Mr. Delafleld, and when I came to that portion of the letter, I Involuntarily uttered an exclamation of delight, while I glanced timidly toward him. But he made no sign. The letter which would have explained all was safely lodged behind the bureau, and with a gloomy brow he watched me while I read, interpreting my emotions into the satisfaction he naturally supposed I would feel in hearing from my lover. With me the revulsion was too great, for I fancied I saw in the expression of his face contempt for one who had presumed to love him, and bursting into tears. I cried and laughed alternately, while he tried to soothe me; but I would not be comforted by him —ho kated me, I knew, and very pettishly I told him at last “to let me alone and go •way—l was better without him than with him,” I said, “and he would oblige me by leaving the room.” The next moment f repented my harshness, which I knew had caused him paiu, for there was a look of sorrow upon his face as he complied with my request. But I was too proud to call him back, and dor the next half hour I cried and fretted •lone, first at him for making Dr. Clayton think he loved me when he didn't; Secondly, at Dr. Clayton for meddling With what didn't concern him; and lastly, at myself, for being so foolish as to whether anybody loved sue or not. At the end of that time Richard c.'vme back. The cloud had disappeared, and very good-humoredly he asked “if I had got ever my pet, and if I wanted anything.” Before night I was so much better that Ada. Lina and Halbert came in to see me, each expressing their pleasure at my convalescence. But one there was who came not to greet me, and at whose absence I greatly marveled. She Lad ever been the first to meet me in the morning and the last to leave uie at sight. Why, then, did she tarry no*v, when I wished so much to see her? Alas! I did not know that never again would Jier home be gladdened by the sunshine of her presence, for it was Jessie whom I missed —Jessie for whom I longed—straining my ear to catch the sound of her ringiug laugh or bounding footsteps. At last, as the dav wore on and she 4id not come, 1 asked for her and why' she stayed so long ft-y«y. Wringing her hands, Mrs. Lansing exclaimed, “Tell her, Richard, I cannot. It will kill me. Oh, Jessie, Jessie!” ‘T But I had no need for further knowledge. I saw what I had not before observed, the mourning garments of those tonnd me, and in tears of anguish I cried: “My darling is dead!" “Yes, Jessie is dead,” answered Richard. "W* shall never see her again, for shs Is safe in the happy laud of which yon bo often told her.” I could not weep. My sorrow was too jfheat for tears, and covering my face, 1 thought for a long, long time. “Why was it,” I asked myself, “that always wben death had hovered near me, I had keen spared and another taken,” for, as f* tftni m— of Jf—lr, nr K *d ■» i»cen with, Irother Jamie —they had died, while I lad lived, and with a fervent thanksgiving to heaven, which had dealt thus ■Mkcifully with me, I prayed that It ■right not be in vain. Gradually, as I could bear it, Mr. Delcfield told me the sad story—how she lad hang fearlessly over my pillow when «B else had deserted me; how. aho had (HM toT him; wrf how naught but her Mrtjbtra peremptory Commands had tnk- ' her from my side. As he talked, earns keck to me a vagus recoll-e---tl«B of a fairy fora —a seraph I thought ft to have boen —which, when the dark firm was running fast at my feet, had

love, and bidding some one bury me beneath the tall magnolia. Then he told me how she had stood like a ministering spirit by the rnde couch of the poor "Africans, who with their dying breath had blessed her, calling her “the Angel of The Pines.” From her head he himself had shorn her beautiful shining curls, one of which he gave to me, and which I prize as my most precious treasure; for often as' I look upon it, I see again the little gleeful girl, my “Geprgia rose,” who for a brief space dwelt within her fair Southern home, and was then transplanted to her native soil, where now she blooms, the fairest, sweetest flower of nil which deck the fields of heaven. The shock of her death very naturally retarded my recovery, and for many weeks more I- was confined to my room. About the middle of October, Charlie, whose coming I had long expected, errived. bringing to me the sad news that death had again entered our household, that by my father’s and Jamie’s grave was another mound, and at home another vacant chair, that of my aged grandmother. whose illness, he said, had prevented him from coming to me sooner, adding further that they had purposely 1-ept her sickness from me, fearing the effect it might hare. Of Dr. Clayton he could tell me but little. He had not visited Sunny Bank at all; but immediately after his return to Boston he had written to them, saying I was out of danger, and Charlie must go for me os soon as the intense heat of summer was over. This was all they knew, though with woman’s ready tact, both my mother and my sisters conjectured that something was wrong, and Charlie's first question after telling me what he was to inquire into the existing state of affairs between me and the doctor, and if it were my illness alone which had deferred the marriage. “Don’t ask me now,” I replied, “not until we are far from here, and then I will tell you all.” This silenced Charlie, and once when Mr. Deinfield questioned‘him concerning Dr. Clayton, and why he, too, did not come for me. l*e replied evasively, but in a manner calculated still further to mislead Mr. Deinfield, who had no suspicion of the truth, though he fancied there was something wrong. One day Charlie, with his usual abruptness, said to me, “Rosa, why ditin'-* job Tuli in love with Mr Deiaiield? I should much rather have him than a widower?” The hot blood rushed to my cheeks as I replied quickly, “He is engaged to Mila Montrose. They were to have been married this fall, Mrs. Lansing said, but the marriage is, I presume, deferred on account of their recent affliction. At least, I hear nothing said of it.” “If I am any judge of human nature,” returned Charlie, “Mr. Delafield cares far more for you than for Miss Montrose, even if they are engaged. Biit then you are poor, while she is rich, and that. I suppose, makes the difference.” I knew Mr. Delafield too well to ruspeet him of mercenary motives in marrying Ada, and so I said, “He loved her. of course, and it was natural that he should, for though she had some faults, ho probably saw in her enough good to overbalance the bad.” At last the morning dawned on which I was to say good-by to the scenes 1 loved so well. I was to leave the “sunny South,” with its dark evergreens, its flowering vines, its balmy air. I was to leave him, who, ere the next autumn leaves were failing, would take to his beautiful home a bride. Then I thought of little Jessie’s grave, which I had not seen, and on which my tears would never fall, and taking from its hidiug place the tress of shining hair, I wept over that my last adieu. It was later than usual when Mr. Delafield appeared, and as he came in I saw that he was very pale. “Are you sick?” I asked, as he wiped the perspiration from his sac “No, no,” he hurriedly answered; at the same time erossiug over to a side table, he poured out and drank two large goblets of ice water. Then resuming his former seat near me, he took my hand, and looking me earnestly in the face, said: “Rosa, shall I ever see you here again?” Before I could answer, Ada chimed in, “Of course we shall. Do coax the doctor to bring you here some time, and let us see how you bear houors of being madame!” Instantly the earnest look passed away from Mr. Delafield’s face, and was succeeded by a scowl, which remained until the carriage which was to take me to the depot was announced. Then the whole expression of his countouauce changed, and for a brief instant my heart thrilled with joy, for I could not mistake the deep meaning of his looks as he bent over nte and whispered his farewell. “God bless you, Rosa,” he said. “My Rosa, I once hoped to call you. liut it cannot be. Farewell!” There was one burning kiss upon my lips, and the next moment he was gone. “Are you going to the depot?” asked his sister, us he was leaving the room. “No, no, no,” he replied; and then as Charlie ngaln bade me come, I rose bewildered to my feet, hardly realizing when Mrs. Lansing, Ada* and Lina bade mo adieu. Halbert went with mo In the carriage, and together with Charlie looked wonderingly at me. ns I unconsciously repeated in a whisper, “My Rosa, I once hoped to call you. It is Ada who stands in the way,” I said to myself, and covering my face with my veil, I wept as I thought of all I had lost when Richard Delafield offereft TnsTTeart to another. He did love me. I was sure of that, but what did it avail me. He was too honorable to break his engagement With Ada. so henceforth I must walk alone, bearing the burden of an aching heart. • •••••• .In the meantime, a far different scene was being enacted in the apartment I had just vacated. Scarcely bad the whistle of the engine died away in the distance. when a troop of blacks, armed with boiling sods and scrubbing brushes, entered my chamber for the purpose of cleaning it They had carried from it nearly every article of furniture, and nothing remained save the matting and jr* *■

the bureau, the latter of Which they were about to remove when they were surprised at the unexpected appearance of Mr. Delafield, who could not .resist the strong desire which he felt to stand once more in the room where Rosa jhad spent so many weary weeks. For a moment the blacks suspended their employment, and then Linda, who seemed to be leading, took hold of the bureau, giving one end of it a shove toward the center of the room. The movement dislodged the longlcst letter, which, covered with dirt and cobwebs, fell upon the floor at her feet. She was the same woman who, weeks before, had carelessly knocked off the letter, which she now picked up and handed to Mr. Delafield. saying, as she wiped off the dirt, “It must have laid thar a heap of a while, and now I think on’t, ’pears like ever so long ago, when I was breshin’ t|ie bureau, I hearn somethin’ drap, couldn’t find nothin’, and it must havo been this.” Glancing at the superscription, and recognizing the handwriting of Dr. Clayton, Mr. Delafield broko the seal, and read. From black tq white—from white to red—from red to speckled—and from speckled back again to its natural color, grew bis face as ho proceeded, while his eyes grew so dazzlingly bright with the intensity of his feelings that tho negroes, who watched him, whispered among themselves that he “must be gwine stark mad.” His active, quick-seeing mind took in the meaning of each sentence, and even before he had finished the letter ho understood everything just as it was —why Rosa had appeared so strangely when she read Dr. Clayton’s letter to herself, and realized perfectly what her feelings must have been as day after day went by and he still “made no sign.” “But she is mine now, thank heaven! and nothing shall take her from me,” he exclaimed aloud, unmindful of the presence of the negroes, who, confirmed in their impression of his insanity, looked curiously after hint as he went down the stairs, down the walk, and out into the street, proceeding with rapid strides toward the depot.

CHAPTER XXIII. Mr. Delafield’s great object now was to reach Charleston before the boat in which Rosa was to sail should leave the landing. Suddenly he remembered that the express train left Augusta about four o'clock p. m. I-t was now ten, and he could easily reach it in time for the cars, provided there had been no change in the time table. To ascertain this, therefore, he hastened to the depot, where, to his dismay, lie learn'ed that the train left Augusta at two. But with him to will was to do. Flying rather than walking back to his house, he called out Bill, his coachman, startling him with the inquiry as to whether it would be possible, with his best horses —a span of beautiful dappled grays, which were valued at a thousand dollars—to drive to Augusta in less than four liours.Besides being naturally lazy and unwilling for exertion of any kind, Bill was also remarkably tender of said grays, who were his pride, and whom he had named Fred and Feed. On hearing his master's inquiry, therefore, he looked perfectly aghast, and diving both hands into liis matted wool, by way of illustration undoubtedly, replied, “Mighty tough serateliin’, I cau tell you mars’r. Them ponies’ hain’t been driv, only wliat I’ve ox’cised ’em for health, for better’ll a month, and to run ’em as I’d hev to ruu ’em, would kill ’em stone dead. No, rnars'r, can’t think on’t for a minit;” and as if this were conclusive, and his word the law, Bill stuffed his hands into his bagging trousers, and was walking quietly away, when Mr. Delafield stopped him, saying, “I shall try it at all events. So get out the carriage immediately, and mind you are not over five minutes doing it. Ask some one to help you if necessary. Ho, Jack!” he called to a ragged mulatto boy who was doing nothing, and bade him assist Bili m harnessing the horses. Rolling his white eyes in utter astonishment at what seemed to him the folly of his master, Bill began to expostulate, “Mars’r, you kill ” “Silence, and do as I bid you!” said Mr. Delafield in a tone which Bill thought best to obey, and sauntering off to the stables, he brought out the ponies, who pranced and pawed the ground, while he admired their flowing manes and smooth, shining coats. Mr. Delafield hastily packed n few articles in his portmanteau, wrote a line to his sister, and came out to superintend in person the movements of his servant, whose peculiarities he perfectly understood. He onlered him to start up, and entered the carriage, while Bill mounted the box, wtmre he spent quite awhile in comfortably disposing of his long, lank limbs aud in adjusting his palm-leaf hat. “Go on, you rascal!” shouted Mr. DelafUld, beginning to lose his temper; and gathering up the reins, Bill whistled to the spirited animals, who dashed off at a far greater speed than their driver thought was at all conducive to their well-being. “Hold on dar, Ford! Stop dat foolin’, will you, Fred! Easy dar, both on you, for you come mighty nigh lustin' me off de box.” This last was said quite loud for the benefit of Air. Delafield,. who, perceiving that their speed Jtad slackened, for they were well trained trad readily obeyed Bill’s voice, called out, “Drive faster, I tell you. Give them the ribbons, and let them run.” The horses started forward as if a volley of artillery had been fired at tlieir heels, while mingled with the roll of the wheels Mr. Delafield heard the distressed Bill saying, “Whoa, dar, Ferdinand; can’t you whoa when I tell you? Come, Frederic, you set him a ’xample. That’s a good boy; no ’casion for «11 dis hurry; if we misses one train we catches another. All de same thing. We ain’t chasiu' a runaway gal, as I knows of.” After a little he succeeded in stopping them, and for the next ten o? fifteen minutes they proceeded on rattier leisurely, and Bill was beginning to think his master had come to his senses, when he was startled with the stern command, “Let them run now as fast ns they will. Don’t check them at all until we rqach the depot.” Accordingly, for a mile or so the horses rushed on at headlong speed, Bill sympathizing with them deeply, and mentally promising himself “to 'tend ’em mighty keerful to pay for this.” At last, when he thought It safe to do so, he held them In, taking the precaution, however, to say aloud, “Get along dar, Ferd —none yonr lazy tricks her* when mart’r's In aich a hurry. Can’t

you get along dgr, I say? An’ you Fred, wake up yer bones to de merits of <U case.” i But if in this way he thought to dw ceive the resolute man inside he was mistaken. Perceiving that their speed was considerably Blackened, and hearing Bill loudly reproach the horses for their laziness, Mr. Delafield softly .opened the carriage door, and leaning out, loaned the cause of the delay. Bolt upright upon the box, with his brawny feet firmly braced against the dashboard so ns to give him more power, sat Bill, clutching the reins with might and main, for the horses’ mettle was up, and it required his entire strength to keep them from running furiously. All this time, too, the cunning negro kept chiding them for their indolence ia moving so slowly. “Bill,” said <j|lr. Delafield, sternly, “stop the carriage Instantly. I under stand your tricks, and for the rest of the way I shall drive myself.” Rolling his eyes wildly in their sockets, the crestfallen Bill folded" his arms and resigned the horses to their fate, saying mentally,* “I shall wear mournin’ for ’em, I shall, and he may nelp hisself.” Over rough and stony places, over smooth and sandy roads, over hills, ovef plains, through the woods, through the swamps, and through the winding valleys, on they sped like lightning, the excited horses covered with foam, their driver silent and determined, while poor Bill, with the perspiration streaming down his shining face, kept up ,a continued expostulation, “Now, mars’r, stop ’em 'fore dey draps down dead. Look at de white specks al over Ferd's back—he’ll imver stan’ it. You kills ’em sartin, and d»r goes a thousand dollars smack an’ clean.” (To be continued.)