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Updated: June 3, 2025
Yassir, when I heerd from Miss Sally I done comed here to tek cyar ob her." "How is your mistress?" I asked. "She po'ly, Marse Dave," said Lindy, and paused for adequate words. I took note of this darky who, faithful to a family, had come hither to share her mistress's exile and obscurity. Lindy was spare, energetic, forceful and, I imagined, a discreet guardian indeed for the unfortunate.
"But somehow," continued Salters, "Lindy warn't satisfied wid rentin', so I buyed a piece ob lan', an' I'se glad now I'se got it. Lindy's got a lot ob gumption; knows most as much as a man. She ain't got dat long head fer nuffin. She's got lots ob sense, but I don't like to tell her so." "Why not?" asked Iola. "Do you think it would make her feel too happy?"
It was because of that, I think, that I continued to read the others, and was at pains to have them sent to me. They would fill a hamper, all of them." "What!" says Sadie. "After you knew the kind of monster he was, Lindy, did you keep on writing to him?" "But he was still my husband," protested Lindy. "Bah!" says Sadie, throwin' a scornful glance at the Pasha.
He would insert the most ridiculous statements, as for instance, "Davy is worse to-day, having bribed Lindy to give him a pint of Madeira against my orders." Or, "Davy feigns to be sinking rapidly because he wishes to have you back." Indeed, I was always in a torture of doubt to know what the rascal had sent.
Suddenly there was a noise within, the door was opened, and Lindy stood before us, in the darkened room, with terror in her eyes. "Oh, Marse Dave," she cried, as we entered, "oh, Madame, I'se so glad you'se come, I'se so glad you'se come." She burst into a flood of tears. And Madame la Vicomtesse, raising her veil, seized the girl by the arm. "What is it?" she said. "What is the matter, Lindy?"
"No, I have no time to go anywhere but to Northside farm. Hunt has been waiting nearly half an hour for me, as it is. Lindy, would you like to come with me?" "No, thank you, George; I too am a landowner, and I mean to look over my audit accounts to-day." "Don't compare yourself to a poor overworked underpaid landowner like me.
I glances over to see how Sadie's takin' it, and finds her drawin' in a long breath. "Well, I never!" says she explosive. "What a shameless wretch! And you dared confess all this to Lindy?" "Pardon, Madam," says he, smilin' until he shows most of his white teeth, "but I desired no misunderstanding. It is my way with women, to tell them only what is true.
And all the while Pasha Dar Bunda, alias Don Carlos Vogel, stands there smilin' polite and waitin' patient. But in the end he walks out triumphant, with Lindy, holdin' her little black bag in one hand and her old umbrella in the other, followin' along in his wake. Then last Friday we went down to one of them Mediterranean steamers to see 'em actually start.
Wen I 'listed, I war John Andrews; and wen I gits my pension, I'se John Andrews; but now Salters is my name, an' I likes it better." "But how came you to be Aunt Linda's husband? Did you get married since the war?" "Lindy an' me war married long 'fore de war. But my ole Marster sole me away from her an' our little gal, an' den sole her chile ter somebody else.
"Lan sakes, Marse Dave, but you is bumptious." I rose and walked out on the gallery with surprising steadiness. A great cushioned chair had been placed there and beside it a table with books, and another chair. I sat down. Lindy looked at me sharply, but I did not heed her, and presently she retired. The day, still in its early golden glory, seemed big with prescience.
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