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As she awaited her guests she surveyed the table with both satisfaction and disquietude, for her social functions were few, tonight there were she checked them off on her fingers Sir James Creighton, the rich English manufacturer, and Lady Creighton, Mr. and Mrs. Vanderpool, Mr. Harry Cresswell and his sister, John Taylor and his sister, and Mr.
Zora was scarcely seated when that strange sixth sense of hers told her that something had happened, and it needed but a side-glance from Mrs. Vanderpool to indicate what it was. She sat with folded hands and the old dreamy look in her eyes. In one moment she lived it all again the red cabin, the moving oak, the sowing of the Fleece, and its fearful reaping.
With us yonder there is wrong, but we call it wrong mostly. Oh, I don't know; even there things are mixed." She looked sadly at Mrs. Vanderpool, and the fear that had been hovering behind her mistress's eyes became visible. "It was so beautiful," said Zora. "I expected a great thing of you a sacrifice. I do not blame you because you could not do it; and yet yet, after this, don't you see?
The difference is, I think, that there I know how the story will come out; everything is changing, but I know how and why and from what and to what. Now here, everything seems to be happening; but what is it that is happening?" "You must know what has happened, to know what may happen," said Mrs. Vanderpool. "But how can I know?" "I'll get you some books to-morrow."
Vanderpool looked up quickly. The half mocking answer that rose involuntarily to her lips was checked. Within, Mrs. Vanderpool was a little puzzled at herself. Why had she asked for this girl? She had felt a strange interest in her a peculiar human interest since she first saw her and as she saw her again this afternoon. But would she make a satisfactory maid?
Helene without her cap and apron was often mistaken for a lady, and while I was in New Orleans a French confectioner married her under some such delusion. Now, haven't you a girl about here who would do?" "No," declared Harry decisively, but his sister suggested that she might ask Miss Smith at the colored school. Again Mrs. Vanderpool laughed, but after tea she wandered idly down the road.
She noted with considerable interest the young colored woman who was watching her from the sidewalk: a brown, well-appearing young woman of notable self-possession. Caroline Wynn scrutinized Mrs. Vanderpool because she had been speaking with Mr. Easterly, and Mr. Easterly was a figure of political importance. That very morning Miss Wynn had telegraphed Bles Alwyn.
"The President has sent the following nominations to the Senate ... To be ambassador to France, John Vanderpool, Esq." The first feeling of triumph thrilled faintly again until the low voice of Zora startled her. It was so low and calm, it came as though journeying from great distances and weary with travel. "I used to think a lie a little thing, a convenience; but now I see.
People were working on this set, and he presently identified the play, for Muriel Mercer in a neat black dress entered to bring comfort to the tenement dwellers. But this play, too, had ceased to interest him. He knew that Vera Vanderpool had escaped the blight of Broadway to choose the worthwhile, the true, the vital things of life, and that was about all he now cared to know of the actual play.
Deputy Provost Marshal Vanderpool, who had mingled in the crowd, fearing for the lives of the women and children, boldly stepped to the front, and tried to appease the mob, telling them the papers were all destroyed, and begged them to fall back, and let others help the inmates of the building, or take hold themselves. The reply was a heavy blow in the face.
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