Chapter XII

"'Twas one of love's wild freaks, I do suppose,
And who is there can reason upon those?
I'd like to see the one so bold."

The lively winter season was at its height in New Orleans, and all the vast city astir with life and gayety. In the former wealthy home of the Camfords, her wrought slippers resting on the polished grate in the elegant parlor, sat a prim maiden lady, arrayed in steel-colored satin. An embroidered muslin morning-cap was placed with an air of much precision over her glossy brown _imported_ locks, and the pointed collar around her neck was secured by a plain bow of fawn-colored ribbon.

Suddenly the door opened, and a gentleman, of fine personal appearance, and elegantly attired, entered the apartment, with hat and gloves in hand.

"Where is Winnie?" was the hasty inquiry.

"I left her in her room half an hour ago," was the reply.

"It is quite time we should go;--the theatre will be filled to overflowing at Miss Julia's benefit," remarked the gentleman. "I wish you would go with us, sister."

"Theatres will do for girls and _fops_," said the lady; "_my_ mind requires something solid and weighty to satisfy it."

"Then I suppose Col. Edmunds suits you exactly," observed the gentleman, laughing; "he is a real Sir John Falstaff in proportions."

"I'm in no mood for your frivolous jests. If you were in a rational temper I would like to ask you a question."

"Well, out with it. I'm as rational at thirty as I ever will be, probably."

"You were becoming quite a decent man before this fly-a-way girl came among us. Now I wish to know when she is going away?"

"Heavens! I don't know; not at present, I hope," said the gentleman, quickly.

"Well, either she or I will leave pretty soon," returned the lady, pursing up her lips with a stiff, determined expression; "she is such a self-willed, obstinate little thing, and turns the house all topsy-turvy, and makes such a racket and confusion, that I cannot and _will_ not endure it longer. My mind requires quiet for contemplation."

"Why, she seems to me like a sunbeam; like a canary-bird in the house, sister; warming, and filling it with music."

"She seems to me more like a hurricane, or wild-cat," remarked the lady, spitefully.

The gentleman laughed, and, at this juncture, in bounded the subject of the discourse, arrayed in azure silk, a wreath of white flowers on her head, and a wrought fan swinging by a ribbon at her delicate wrist.

"Well, I've been waiting for you these ten minutes," said the gentleman, gazing with admiration on the lovely being before him; "let us go now, or I fear some impertinent person may intrude upon our reserved seats. The carriage is at the door."

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Lester," said Winnie.

"O, no apology, Miss Morris!" returned he, gayly; "gentlemen always expect to wait for ladies; it is their privilege."

"Miss Mary," said Winnie, advancing toward the prim lady by the grate, "I fear I have misplaced some of your toilet articles, for I could not find one half of mine. The chamber-maid had given them new places, and I took the liberty to apply to yours, but I'll put them all right in the morning."

"O, it is very well, of course," returned the lady, sharply; "plain enough who is mistress here."

Winnie stood irresolute, gazing with astonishment on Miss Mary's angry, flushed countenance, and at length turned her blue eyes toward the gentleman, who was attentively regarding her features.

"Come, Winnie," said he, opening the hall-door, "we shall be very late."

The young girl quickly followed his direction. "Is brother Wayland to be there?" she inquired, as the carriage rolled away.

"I urged his attendance, and he half promised to go," answered the gentleman; "but, if he fails, cannot you be contented with me alone for one brief evening?"

"O, yes, many!" returned Winnie. "I only wished he would go and not confine himself to business so closely."

"I wish he would relax his editorial labors, for his health demands it, I think," said Mr. Lester. "We must induce him to quit the chair of office, and take a trip up the river this spring."

"I wish he would leave that dull, tedious printing-office a few weeks," exclaimed Winnie. "He has long entertained a project of erecting a little cottage on the shore of Tennessee, where we used to live, for himself and me, and I think he has sufficient money now to carry his plan into effect; don't you, Mr. Lester?"

"Undoubtedly he has; but such a proceeding would not please me at all," answered the gentleman.

"Why not?" asked Winnie, turning her eyes quickly toward her companion.

He smiled to meet her startled glance, and said, "I will explain my reasons at some future time, Winnie. We are now at the theatre."

Mr. Lester handed the fair girl from the carriage, and they made their way through the crowd. Wayland met them on the steps, and accompanied them home after the play.

As Winnie passed the door of Miss Mary Lester's room to reach her own, she observed it standing wide open, and wondered to behold it thus, as Miss Mary was accustomed to bar and bolt it close, for fear of thieves and housebreakers. But, fatigued and sleepy, she passed on, and soon forgot her surprise after gaining the privacy of her own apartment. Early in the morning she was roused from slumber by a furious knocking on her door. She sprang up and demanded, "Who is there?"

"Me, Miss Winnie, only me--Aunt Eunice; and do you know what is become o' Missus Mary?" exclaimed an excited voice without; "her door is wide open this morning, and nobody slept in her bed last night."

Winnie was by this time fairly roused, and, opening her door, the poor servant-girl flounced into the room, the very picture of terror and affright.

"Has your master risen, and does he know of his sister's absence?" inquired Winnie.

"No, nobody is up but me, and Missus Mary always tells me to come right to her room first thing with a pitcher o' cool water; so I went this mornin', you see, and behold missus' door wide open and no missus thar! O, Miss Winnie, I 'spect satin has sperritted off soul and body, 'deed I does."

"O, no, Aunt Eunice, I think not!" said Winnie smiling; "but you had better go to your master and inform him what has occurred."

"'Deed I will, Miss," said the black woman, disappearing.

Winnie proceeded to dress, in a strange perplexity of fear and astonishment, while Aunt Eunice thumped long and loud on her master's door.

"Who's there?" at last exclaimed a voice within.

"Me, Aunt Eunice," said the woman frantically, "O, massa, massa, missus gone, and who's to pour the coffee for breakfast?"

"What are you raving about?" said the master, opening his door; "why are you disturbing me at this early hour?"

"Missus gone; sperritted off soul and body, I 'spect."

"What are you talking about?" demanded Lester, not in the least comprehending her words.

"O, just come up to her room and see for yourself."

"Why, what's to be seen there?" he asked.

"Nothin' at all, I tells ye. Missus clean gone. Her door wide open, and she never slept in her bed last night, massa," said the woman, gasping for breath, as she ceased speaking.

The unusual sounds aroused Wayland, who slept near, and flinging open his door he demanded what was the matter.

"O, Master Morris!" said aunt Eunice, turning her discourse upon him, "missus gone--clean gone."

"Come on, Morris," said Lester. "Eunice says her mistress is spirited away. Let's dive into the mystery and see what we can bring to light."

Wayland followed Lester up the hall stairs, wondering what this strange disturbance might import. They traversed the passage to Miss Mary's apartment, when, sure enough, as Eunice had affirmed, they found the door wide open, and, to appearance, no person had occupied the room the previous night. Lester's quick eye instantly marked, what the servant in her fright had failed to notice, the absence of two large trunks that used to stand beside the bed, and the _presence_ of a small folded billet on the dressing-table. He advanced with a hasty step, broke the seal, and read.

"Ha, ha!" laughed he, as he run over the contents. "Eunice, go below and light the fires."

The woman hastened away.

"Romance at thirty-seven! elopement extraordinary, Wayland!" he continued. "Miss Mary Lester has become in due form Mrs. Col. Edmunds, and 'fled,' as she expresses it--(now where was the use in _flying_, for who would have objected to the marriage? But then 'twas romantic, of course)--to the wilds of Texas; there to enjoy the sweets of domestic felicity with her adored husband; to which fair land she hopes I'll some day come to visit her, when I have regained possession of my senses, and learnt the difference 'twixt canary-birds and wild-cats."

Wayland listened with amazement depicted on his features.

"Strange; all wonder, isn't it, Morris?" pursued Lester. "Let's go below and discuss the matter."

The gentlemen descended to the parlor, where Aunt Eunice soon presented herself, and, with rueful countenance, said:

"Please, massa, who is to pour the coffee this morning? Missus gone, you know."

"Well, Eunice, suppose you run up stairs, and ask Miss Winnie if she will not condescend to perform that office this morning, as we find ourselves so suddenly bereft of a housekeeper?" said Lester, in a mock-serious tone.

Winnie of course assented, and passed into the breakfast-room, where she found her brother and Lester already seated at the table.

"Good-morning, Miss Morris," said the latter. "A romance, such as we read of in old knights' tales, was enacted in our house last night, in consequence of which a forlorn bachelor has to ask of you the favor to preside at his desolate board this morning."

"I shall be pleased to serve you," returned Winnie, assuming the head of the table, and so prettily did she perform the duties of her new office, that Lester forgot his muffins and sandwiches, in admiration of his newly-installed housekeeper _pro tem_.

Miss Mary's elopement was a three days' wonder, and then the affair was as if it had never been; save that the servants could not sufficiently admire Miss Winnie, or sufficiently rejoice over Miss Mary's departure. "O," said Aunt Eunice, "don't I wish massa would marry you, Miss Winnie, and then the house would be like heaven--'deed it would!"